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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Father Sergius, by Leo Tolstoy
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Father Sergius
+
+Author: Leo Tolstoy
+
+Translator: Louise and Aylmer Maude
+
+Release Date: July, 1997  [Etext #985]
+Posting Date: July 9, 2009
+Last Updated: September 10, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FATHER SERGIUS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judith Boss
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FATHER SERGIUS
+
+By Leo Tolstoy
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+In Petersburg in the eighteen-forties a surprising event occurred. An
+officer of the Cuirassier Life Guards, a handsome prince who everyone
+predicted would become aide-de-camp to the Emperor Nicholas I and have
+a brilliant career, left the service, broke off his engagement to a
+beautiful maid of honour, a favourite of the Empress’s, gave his small
+estate to his sister, and retired to a monastery to become a monk.
+
+This event appeared extraordinary and inexplicable to those who did not
+know his inner motives, but for Prince Stepan Kasatsky himself it all
+occurred so naturally that he could not imagine how he could have acted
+otherwise.
+
+His father, a retired colonel of the Guards, had died when Stepan was
+twelve, and sorry as his mother was to part from her son, she entered
+him at the Military College as her deceased husband had intended.
+
+The widow herself, with her daughter, Varvara, moved to Petersburg to be
+near her son and have him with her for the holidays.
+
+The boy was distinguished both by his brilliant ability and by his
+immense self-esteem. He was first both in his studies--especially in
+mathematics, of which he was particularly fond--and also in drill and in
+riding. Though of more than average height, he was handsome and agile,
+and he would have been an altogether exemplary cadet had it not been for
+his quick temper. He was remarkably truthful, and was neither dissipated
+nor addicted to drink. The only faults that marred his conduct were
+fits of fury to which he was subject and during which he lost control of
+himself and became like a wild animal. He once nearly threw out of the
+window another cadet who had begun to tease him about his collection
+of minerals. On another occasion he came almost completely to grief
+by flinging a whole dish of cutlets at an officer who was acting as
+steward, attacking him and, it was said, striking him for having broken
+his word and told a barefaced lie. He would certainly have been reduced
+to the ranks had not the Director of the College hushed up the whole
+matter and dismissed the steward.
+
+By the time he was eighteen he had finished his College course and
+received a commission as lieutenant in an aristocratic regiment of the
+Guards.
+
+The Emperor Nicholas Pavlovich (Nicholas I) had noticed him while he
+was still at the College, and continued to take notice of him in the
+regiment, and it was on this account that people predicted for him an
+appointment as aide-de-camp to the Emperor. Kasatsky himself strongly
+desired it, not from ambition only but chiefly because since his cadet
+days he had been passionately devoted to Nicholas Pavlovich. The Emperor
+had often visited the Military College and every time Kasatsky saw
+that tall erect figure, with breast expanded in its military overcoat,
+entering with brisk step, saw the cropped side-whiskers, the moustache,
+the aquiline nose, and heard the sonorous voice exchanging greetings
+with the cadets, he was seized by the same rapture that he experienced
+later on when he met the woman he loved. Indeed, his passionate
+adoration of the Emperor was even stronger: he wished to sacrifice
+something--everything, even himself--to prove his complete devotion.
+And the Emperor Nicholas was conscious of evoking this rapture and
+deliberately aroused it. He played with the cadets, surrounded himself
+with them, treating them sometimes with childish simplicity, sometimes
+as a friend, and then again with majestic solemnity. After that affair
+with the officer, Nicholas Pavlovich said nothing to Kasatsky, but when
+the latter approached he waved him away theatrically, frowned, shook his
+finger at him, and afterwards when leaving, said: ‘Remember that I know
+everything. There are some things I would rather not know, but they
+remain here,’ and he pointed to his heart.
+
+When on leaving College the cadets were received by the Emperor, he did
+not again refer to Kasatsky’s offence, but told them all, as was his
+custom, that they should serve him and the fatherland loyally, that he
+would always be their best friend, and that when necessary they might
+approach him direct. All the cadets were as usual greatly moved, and
+Kasatsky even shed tears, remembering the past, and vowed that he would
+serve his beloved Tsar with all his soul.
+
+When Kasatsky took up his commission his mother moved with her daughter
+first to Moscow and then to their country estate. Kasatsky gave half his
+property to his sister and kept only enough to maintain himself in the
+expensive regiment he had joined.
+
+To all appearance he was just an ordinary, brilliant young officer
+of the Guards making a career for himself; but intense and complex
+strivings went on within him. From early childhood his efforts had
+seemed to be very varied, but essentially they were all one and the
+same. He tried in everything he took up to attain such success and
+perfection as would evoke praise and surprise. Whether it was his
+studies or his military exercises, he took them up and worked at them
+till he was praised and held up as an example to others. Mastering one
+subject he took up another, and obtained first place in his studies. For
+example, while still at College he noticed in himself an awkwardness in
+French conversation, and contrived to master French till he spoke it
+as well as Russian, and then he took up chess and became an excellent
+player.
+
+Apart from his main vocation, which was the service of his Tsar and
+the fatherland, he always set himself some particular aim, and however
+unimportant it was, devoted himself completely to it and lived for it
+until it was accomplished. And as soon as it was attained another
+aim would immediately present itself, replacing its predecessor. This
+passion for distinguishing himself, or for accomplishing something
+in order to distinguish himself, filled his life. On taking up his
+commission he set himself to acquire the utmost perfection in knowledge
+of the service, and very soon became a model officer, though still with
+the same fault of ungovernable irascibility, which here in the service
+again led him to commit actions inimical to his success. Then he took to
+reading, having once in conversation in society felt himself deficient
+in general education--and again achieved his purpose. Then, wishing
+to secure a brilliant position in high society, he learnt to dance
+excellently and very soon was invited to all the balls in the best
+circles, and to some of their evening gatherings. But this did not
+satisfy him: he was accustomed to being first, and in this society was
+far from being so.
+
+The highest society then consisted, and I think always consist, of
+four sorts of people: rich people who are received at Court, people
+not wealthy but born and brought up in Court circles, rich people who
+ingratiate themselves into the Court set, and people neither rich nor
+belonging to the Court but who ingratiate themselves into the first and
+second sets.
+
+Kasatsky did not belong to the first two sets, but was readily welcomed
+in the others. On entering society he determined to have relations with
+some society lady, and to his own surprise quickly accomplished this
+purpose. He soon realized, however, that the circles in which he moved
+were not the highest, and that though he was received in the highest
+spheres he did not belong to them. They were polite to him, but showed
+by their whole manner that they had their own set and that he was not of
+it. And Kasatsky wished to belong to that inner circle. To attain that
+end it would be necessary to be an aide-de-camp to the Emperor--which
+he expected to become--or to marry into that exclusive set, which he
+resolved to do. And his choice fell on a beauty belonging to the
+Court, who not merely belonged to the circle into which he wished to be
+accepted, but whose friendship was coveted by the very highest people
+and those most firmly established in that highest circle. This was
+Countess Korotkova. Kasatsky began to pay court to her, and not merely
+for the sake of his career. She was extremely attractive and he soon
+fell in love with her. At first she was noticeably cool towards him,
+but then suddenly changed and became gracious, and her mother gave him
+pressing invitations to visit them. Kasatsky proposed and was accepted.
+He was surprised at the facility with which he attained such happiness.
+But though he noticed something strange and unusual in the behaviour
+towards him of both mother and daughter, he was blinded by being
+so deeply in love, and did not realize what almost the whole town
+knew--namely, that his fiancee had been the Emperor Nicholas’s mistress
+the previous year.
+
+Two weeks before the day arranged for the wedding, Kasatsky was at
+Tsarskoe Selo at his fiancee’s country place. It was a hot day in May.
+He and his betrothed had walked about the garden and were sitting on
+a bench in a shady linden alley. Mary’s white muslin dress suited her
+particularly well, and she seemed the personification of innocence and
+love as she sat, now bending her head, now gazing up at the very tall
+and handsome man who was speaking to her with particular tenderness and
+self-restraint, as if he feared by word or gesture to offend or sully
+her angelic purity.
+
+Kasatsky belonged to those men of the eighteen-forties (they are now no
+longer to be found) who while deliberately and without any conscientious
+scruples condoning impurity in themselves, required ideal and angelic
+purity in their women, regarded all unmarried women of their circle as
+possessed of such purity, and treated them accordingly. There was much
+that was false and harmful in this outlook, as concerning the laxity the
+men permitted themselves, but in regard to the women that old-fashioned
+view (sharply differing from that held by young people to-day who see in
+every girl merely a female seeking a mate) was, I think, of value. The
+girls, perceiving such adoration, endeavoured with more or less success
+to be goddesses.
+
+Such was the view Kasatsky held of women, and that was how he regarded
+his fiancee. He was particularly in love that day, but did not
+experience any sensual desire for her. On the contrary he regarded her
+with tender adoration as something unattainable.
+
+He rose to his full height, standing before her with both hands on his
+sabre.
+
+‘I have only now realized what happiness a man can experience! And it is
+you, my darling, who have given me this happiness,’ he said with a timid
+smile.
+
+Endearments had not yet become usual between them, and feeling himself
+morally inferior he felt terrified at this stage to use them to such an
+angel.
+
+‘It is thanks to you that I have come to know myself. I have learnt that
+I am better than I thought.’
+
+‘I have known that for a long time. That was why I began to love you.’
+
+Nightingales trilled near by and the fresh leafage rustled, moved by a
+passing breeze.
+
+He took her hand and kissed it, and tears came into his eyes.
+
+She understood that he was thanking her for having said she loved him.
+He silently took a few steps up and down, and then approached her again
+and sat down.
+
+‘You know... I have to tell you... I was not disinterested when I
+began to make love to you. I wanted to get into society; but later...
+how unimportant that became in comparison with you--when I got to know
+you. You are not angry with me for that?’
+
+She did not reply but merely touched his hand. He understood that this
+meant: ‘No, I am not angry.’
+
+‘You said...’ He hesitated. It seemed too bold to say. ‘You said that
+you began to love me. I believe it--but there is something that troubles
+you and checks your feeling. What is it?’
+
+‘Yes--now or never!’ thought she. ‘He is bound to know of it anyway. But
+now he will not forsake me. Ah, if he should, it would be terrible!’ And
+she threw a loving glance at his tall, noble, powerful figure. She loved
+him now more than she had loved the Tsar, and apart from the Imperial
+dignity would not have preferred the Emperor to him.
+
+‘Listen! I cannot deceive you. I have to tell you. You ask what it is?
+It is that I have loved before.’
+
+She again laid her hand on his with an imploring gesture. He was silent.
+
+‘You want to know who it was? It was--the Emperor.’
+
+‘We all love him. I can imagine you, a schoolgirl at the Institute...’
+
+‘No, it was later. I was infatuated, but it passed... I must tell
+you...’
+
+‘Well, what of it?’
+
+‘No, it was not simply--’ She covered her face with her hands.
+
+‘What? You gave yourself to him?’
+
+She was silent.
+
+‘His mistress?’
+
+She did not answer.
+
+He sprang up and stood before her with trembling jaws, pale as death. He
+now remembered how the Emperor, meeting him on the Nevsky, had amiably
+congratulated him.
+
+‘O God, what have I done! Stiva!’
+
+‘Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! Oh, how it pains!’
+
+He turned away and went to the house. There he met her mother.
+
+‘What is the matter, Prince? I...’ She became silent on seeing his
+face. The blood had suddenly rushed to his head.
+
+‘You knew it, and used me to shield them! If you weren’t a woman...!’
+he cried, lifting his enormous fist, and turning aside he ran away.
+
+Had his fiancee’s lover been a private person he would have killed him,
+but it was his beloved Tsar.
+
+Next day he applied both for furlough and his discharge, and professing
+to be ill, so as to see no one, he went away to the country.
+
+He spent the summer at his village arranging his affairs. When summer
+was over he did not return to Petersburg, but entered a monastery and
+there became a monk.
+
+His mother wrote to try to dissuade him from this decisive step, but
+he replied that he felt God’s call which transcended all other
+considerations. Only his sister, who was as proud and ambitious as he,
+understood him.
+
+She understood that he had become a monk in order to be above those who
+considered themselves his superiors. And she understood him correctly.
+By becoming a monk he showed contempt for all that seemed most important
+to others and had seemed so to him while he was in the service, and
+he now ascended a height from which he could look down on those he had
+formerly envied.... But it was not this alone, as his sister Varvara
+supposed, that influenced him. There was also in him something else--a
+sincere religious feeling which Varvara did not know, which intertwined
+itself with the feeling of pride and the desire for pre-eminence,
+and guided him. His disillusionment with Mary, whom he had thought
+of angelic purity, and his sense of injury, were so strong that they
+brought him to despair, and the despair led him--to what? To God, to his
+childhood’s faith which had never been destroyed in him.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+Kasatsky entered the monastery on the feast of the Intercession of the
+Blessed Virgin. The Abbot of that monastery was a gentleman by birth, a
+learned writer and a starets, that is, he belonged to that succession
+of monks originating in Walachia who each choose a director and teacher
+whom they implicitly obey. This Superior had been a disciple of the
+starets Ambrose, who was a disciple of Makarius, who was a disciple of
+the starets Leonid, who was a disciple of Paussy Velichkovsky.
+
+To this Abbot Kasatsky submitted himself as to his chosen director. Here
+in the monastery, besides the feeling of ascendency over others that
+such a life gave him, he felt much as he had done in the world: he found
+satisfaction in attaining the greatest possible perfection outwardly
+as well as inwardly. As in the regiment he had been not merely an
+irreproachable officer but had even exceeded his duties and widened the
+borders of perfection, so also as a monk he tried to be perfect, and was
+always industrious, abstemious, submissive, and meek, as well as
+pure both in deed and in thought, and obedient. This last quality in
+particular made life far easier for him. If many of the demands of life
+in the monastery, which was near the capital and much frequented, did
+not please him and were temptations to him, they were all nullified by
+obedience: ‘It is not for me to reason; my business is to do the task
+set me, whether it be standing beside the relics, singing in the choir,
+or making up accounts in the monastery guest-house.’ All possibility of
+doubt about anything was silenced by obedience to the starets. Had
+it not been for this, he would have been oppressed by the length and
+monotony of the church services, the bustle of the many visitors, and
+the bad qualities of the other monks. As it was, he not only bore it
+all joyfully but found in it solace and support. ‘I don’t know why it is
+necessary to hear the same prayers several times a day, but I know that
+it is necessary; and knowing this I find joy in them.’ His director told
+him that as material food is necessary for the maintenance of the life
+of the body, so spiritual food--the church prayers--is necessary for
+the maintenance of the spiritual life. He believed this, and though the
+church services, for which he had to get up early in the morning, were
+a difficulty, they certainly calmed him and gave him joy. This was the
+result of his consciousness of humility, and the certainty that whatever
+he had to do, being fixed by the starets, was right.
+
+The interest of his life consisted not only in an ever greater and
+greater subjugation of his will, but in the attainment of all the
+Christian virtues, which at first seemed to him easily attainable. He
+had given his whole estate to his sister and did not regret it, he had
+no personal claims, humility towards his inferiors was not merely easy
+for him but afforded him pleasure. Even victory over the sins of the
+flesh, greed and lust, was easily attained. His director had specially
+warned him against the latter sin, but Kasatsky felt free from it and
+was glad.
+
+One thing only tormented him--the remembrance of his fiancee; and not
+merely the remembrance but the vivid image of what might have been.
+Involuntarily he recalled a lady he knew who had been a favourite of the
+Emperor’s, but had afterwards married and become an admirable wife and
+mother. The husband had a high position, influence and honour, and a
+good and penitent wife.
+
+In his better hours Kasatsky was not disturbed by such thoughts, and
+when he recalled them at such times he was merely glad to feel that the
+temptation was past. But there were moments when all that made up his
+present life suddenly grew dim before him, moments when, if he did not
+cease to believe in the aims he had set himself, he ceased to see them
+and could evoke no confidence in them but was seized by a remembrance
+of, and--terrible to say--a regret for, the change of life he had made.
+
+The only thing that saved him in that state of mind was obedience and
+work, and the fact that the whole day was occupied by prayer. He went
+through the usual forms of prayer, he bowed in prayer, he even prayed
+more than usual, but it was lip-service only and his soul was not in it.
+This condition would continue for a day, or sometimes for two days, and
+would then pass of itself. But those days were dreadful. Kasatsky felt
+that he was neither in his own hands nor in God’s, but was subject
+to something else. All he could do then was to obey the starets, to
+restrain himself, to undertake nothing, and simply to wait. In general
+all this time he lived not by his own will but by that of the starets,
+and in this obedience he found a special tranquillity.
+
+So he lived in his first monastery for seven years. At the end of the
+third year he received the tonsure and was ordained to the priesthood by
+the name of Sergius. The profession was an important event in his inner
+life. He had previously experienced a great consolation and spiritual
+exaltation when receiving communion, and now when he himself officiated,
+the performance of the preparation filled him with ecstatic and deep
+emotion. But subsequently that feeling became more and more deadened,
+and once when he was officiating in a depressed state of mind he felt
+that the influence produced on him by the service would not endure. And
+it did in fact weaken till only the habit remained.
+
+In general in the seventh year of his life in the monastery Sergius grew
+weary. He had learnt all there was to learn and had attained all there
+was to attain, there was nothing more to do and his spiritual drowsiness
+increased. During this time he heard of his mother’s death and his
+sister Varvara’s marriage, but both events were matters of indifference
+to him. His whole attention and his whole interest were concentrated on
+his inner life.
+
+In the fourth year of his priesthood, during which the Bishop had been
+particularly kind to him, the starets told him that he ought not to
+decline it if he were offered an appointment to higher duties. Then
+monastic ambition, the very thing he had found so repulsive in other
+monks, arose within him. He was assigned to a monastery near the
+metropolis. He wished to refuse but the starets ordered him to accept
+the appointment. He did so, and took leave of the starets and moved to
+the other monastery.
+
+The exchange into the metropolitan monastery was an important event in
+Sergius’s life. There he encountered many temptations, and his whole
+will-power was concentrated on meeting them.
+
+In the first monastery, women had not been a temptation to him, but
+here that temptation arose with terrible strength and even took definite
+shape. There was a lady known for her frivolous behaviour who began to
+seek his favour. She talked to him and asked him to visit her. Sergius
+sternly declined, but was horrified by the definiteness of his desire.
+He was so alarmed that he wrote about it to the starets. And in
+addition, to keep himself in hand, he spoke to a young novice and,
+conquering his sense of shame, confessed his weakness to him, asking him
+to keep watch on him and not let him go anywhere except to service and
+to fulfil his duties.
+
+Besides this, a great pitfall for Sergius lay in the fact of his extreme
+antipathy to his new Abbot, a cunning worldly man who was making a
+career for himself in the Church. Struggle with himself as he might, he
+could not master that feeling. He was submissive to the Abbot, but in
+the depths of his soul he never ceased to condemn him. And in the second
+year of his residence at the new monastery that ill-feeling broke out.
+
+The Vigil service was being performed in the large church on the eve of
+the feast of the Intercession of the Blessed Virgin, and there were many
+visitors. The Abbot himself was conducting the service. Father Sergius
+was standing in his usual place and praying: that is, he was in that
+condition of struggle which always occupied him during the service,
+especially in the large church when he was not himself conducting the
+service. This conflict was occasioned by his irritation at the presence
+of fine folk, especially ladies. He tried not to see them or to notice
+all that went on: how a soldier conducted them, pushing the
+common people aside, how the ladies pointed out the monks to one
+another--especially himself and a monk noted for his good looks. He
+tried as it were to keep his mind in blinkers, to see nothing but
+the light of the candles on the altar-screen, the icons, and those
+conducting the service. He tried to hear nothing but the prayers
+that were being chanted or read, to feel nothing but self-oblivion in
+consciousness of the fulfilment of duty--a feeling he always experienced
+when hearing or reciting in advance the prayers he had so often heard.
+
+So he stood, crossing and prostrating himself when necessary, and
+struggled with himself, now giving way to cold condemnation and now to
+a consciously evoked obliteration of thought and feeling. Then the
+sacristan, Father Nicodemus--also a great stumbling-block to Sergius
+who involuntarily reproached him for flattering and fawning on the
+Abbot--approached him and, bowing low, requested his presence behind the
+holy gates. Father Sergius straightened his mantle, put on his biretta,
+and went circumspectly through the crowd.
+
+‘Lise, regarde a droite, c’est lui!’ he heard a woman’s voice say.
+
+‘Ou, ou? Il n’est pas tellement beau.’
+
+He knew that they were speaking of him. He heard them and, as always
+at moments of temptation, he repeated the words, ‘Lead us not into
+temptation,’ and bowing his head and lowering his eyes went past the
+ambo and in by the north door, avoiding the canons in their cassocks who
+were just then passing the altar-screen. On entering the sanctuary he
+bowed, crossing himself as usual and bending double before the icons.
+Then, raising his head but without turning, he glanced out of the corner
+of his eye at the Abbot, whom he saw standing beside another glittering
+figure.
+
+The Abbot was standing by the wall in his vestments. Having freed his
+short plump hands from beneath his chasuble he had folded them over
+his fat body and protruding stomach, and fingering the cords of his
+vestments was smilingly saying something to a military man in the
+uniform of a general of the Imperial suite, with its insignia
+and shoulder-knots which Father Sergius’s experienced eye at once
+recognized. This general had been the commander of the regiment in which
+Sergius had served. He now evidently occupied an important position, and
+Father Sergius at once noticed that the Abbot was aware of this and that
+his red face and bald head beamed with satisfaction and pleasure. This
+vexed and disgusted Father Sergius, the more so when he heard that the
+Abbot had only sent for him to satisfy the general’s curiosity to see a
+man who had formerly served with him, as he expressed it.
+
+‘Very pleased to see you in your angelic guise,’ said the general,
+holding out his hand. ‘I hope you have not forgotten an old comrade.’
+
+The whole thing--the Abbot’s red, smiling face amid its fringe of grey,
+the general’s words, his well-cared-for face with its self-satisfied
+smile and the smell of wine from his breath and of cigars from his
+whiskers--revolted Father Sergius. He bowed again to the Abbot and said:
+
+‘Your reverence deigned to send for me?’--and stopped, the whole
+expression of his face and eyes asking why.
+
+‘Yes, to meet the General,’ replied the Abbot.
+
+‘Your reverence, I left the world to save myself from temptation,’ said
+Father Sergius, turning pale and with quivering lips. ‘Why do you expose
+me to it during prayers and in God’s house?’
+
+‘You may go! Go!’ said the Abbot, flaring up and frowning.
+
+Next day Father Sergius asked pardon of the Abbot and of the brethren
+for his pride, but at the same time, after a night spent in prayer, he
+decided that he must leave this monastery, and he wrote to the starets
+begging permission to return to him. He wrote that he felt his weakness
+and incapacity to struggle against temptation without his help and
+penitently confessed his sin of pride. By return of post came a letter
+from the starets, who wrote that Sergius’s pride was the cause of all
+that had happened. The old man pointed out that his fits of anger were
+due to the fact that in refusing all clerical honours he humiliated
+himself not for the sake of God but for the sake of his pride. ‘There
+now, am I not a splendid man not to want anything?’ That was why he
+could not tolerate the Abbot’s action. ‘I have renounced everything for
+the glory of God, and here I am exhibited like a wild beast!’ ‘Had you
+renounced vanity for God’s sake you would have borne it. Worldly pride
+is not yet dead in you. I have thought about you, Sergius my son, and
+prayed also, and this is what God has suggested to me. At the Tambov
+hermitage the anchorite Hilary, a man of saintly life, has died. He had
+lived there eighteen years. The Tambov Abbot is asking whether there is
+not a brother who would take his place. And here comes your letter. Go
+to Father Paissy of the Tambov Monastery. I will write to him about you,
+and you must ask for Hilary’s cell. Not that you can replace Hilary, but
+you need solitude to quell your pride. May God bless you!’
+
+Sergius obeyed the starets, showed his letter to the Abbot, and having
+obtained his permission, gave up his cell, handed all his possessions
+over to the monastery, and set out for the Tambov hermitage.
+
+There the Abbot, an excellent manager of merchant origin, received
+Sergius simply and quietly and placed him in Hilary’s cell, at first
+assigning to him a lay brother but afterwards leaving him alone, at
+Sergius’s own request. The cell was a dual cave, dug into the hillside,
+and in it Hilary had been buried. In the back part was Hilary’s grave,
+while in the front was a niche for sleeping, with a straw mattress, a
+small table, and a shelf with icons and books. Outside the outer door,
+which fastened with a hook, was another shelf on which, once a day, a
+monk placed food from the monastery.
+
+And so Sergius became a hermit.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+At Carnival time, in the sixth year of Sergius’s life at the hermitage,
+a merry company of rich people, men and women from a neighbouring town,
+made up a troyka-party, after a meal of carnival-pancakes and wine. The
+company consisted of two lawyers, a wealthy landowner, an officer, and
+four ladies. One lady was the officer’s wife, another the wife of
+the landowner, the third his sister--a young girl--and the fourth a
+divorcee, beautiful, rich, and eccentric, who amazed and shocked the
+town by her escapades.
+
+The weather was excellent and the snow-covered road smooth as a floor.
+They drove some seven miles out of town, and then stopped and consulted
+as to whether they should turn back or drive farther.
+
+‘But where does this road lead to?’ asked Makovkina, the beautiful
+divorcee.
+
+‘To Tambov, eight miles from here,’ replied one of the lawyers, who was
+having a flirtation with her.
+
+‘And then where?’
+
+‘Then on to L----, past the Monastery.’
+
+‘Where that Father Sergius lives?’
+
+‘Yes.’
+
+‘Kasatsky, the handsome hermit?’
+
+‘Yes.’
+
+‘Mesdames et messieurs, let us drive on and see Kasatsky! We can stop at
+Tambov and have something to eat.’
+
+‘But we shouldn’t get home to-night!’
+
+‘Never mind, we will stay at Kasatsky’s.’
+
+‘Well, there is a very good hostelry at the Monastery. I stayed there
+when I was defending Makhin.’
+
+‘No, I shall spend the night at Kasatsky’s!’
+
+‘Impossible! Even your omnipotence could not accomplish that!’
+
+‘Impossible? Will you bet?’
+
+‘All right! If you spend the night with him, the stake shall be whatever
+you like.’
+
+‘A DISCRETION!’
+
+‘But on your side too!’
+
+‘Yes, of course. Let us drive on.’
+
+Vodka was handed to the drivers, and the party got out a box of pies,
+wine, and sweets for themselves. The ladies wrapped up in their white
+dogskins. The drivers disputed as to whose troyka should go ahead, and
+the youngest, seating himself sideways with a dashing air, swung his
+long knout and shouted to the horses. The troyka-bells tinkled and the
+sledge-runners squeaked over the snow.
+
+The sledge swayed hardly at all. The shaft-horse, with his tightly bound
+tail under his decorated breechband, galloped smoothly and briskly; the
+smooth road seemed to run rapidly backwards, while the driver dashingly
+shook the reins. One of the lawyers and the officer sitting opposite
+talked nonsense to Makovkina’s neighbour, but Makovkina herself sat
+motionless and in thought, tightly wrapped in her fur. ‘Always the same
+and always nasty! The same red shiny faces smelling of wine and cigars!
+The same talk, the same thoughts, and always about the same things! And
+they are all satisfied and confident that it should be so, and will
+go on living like that till they die. But I can’t. It bores me. I want
+something that would upset it all and turn it upside down. Suppose
+it happened to us as to those people--at Saratov was it?--who kept on
+driving and froze to death.... What would our people do? How would
+they behave? Basely, for certain. Each for himself. And I too should act
+badly. But I at any rate have beauty. They all know it. And how about
+that monk? Is it possible that he has become indifferent to it? No! That
+is the one thing they all care for--like that cadet last autumn. What a
+fool he was!’
+
+‘Ivan Nikolaevich!’ she said aloud.
+
+‘What are your commands?’
+
+‘How old is he?’
+
+‘Who?’
+
+‘Kasatsky.’
+
+‘Over forty, I should think.’
+
+‘And does he receive all visitors?’
+
+‘Yes, everybody, but not always.’
+
+‘Cover up my feet. Not like that--how clumsy you are! No! More,
+more--like that! But you need not squeeze them!’
+
+So they came to the forest where the cell was.
+
+Makovkina got out of the sledge, and told them to drive on. They tried
+to dissuade her, but she grew irritable and ordered them to go on.
+
+When the sledges had gone she went up the path in her white dogskin
+coat. The lawyer got out and stopped to watch her.
+
+It was Father Sergius’s sixth year as a recluse, and he was now
+forty-nine. His life in solitude was hard--not on account of the fasts
+and the prayers (they were no hardship to him) but on account of an
+inner conflict he had not at all anticipated. The sources of that
+conflict were two: doubts, and the lust of the flesh. And these two
+enemies always appeared together. It seemed to him that they were two
+foes, but in reality they were one and the same. As soon as doubt was
+gone so was the lustful desire. But thinking them to be two different
+fiends he fought them separately.
+
+‘O my God, my God!’ thought he. ‘Why dost thou not grant me faith? There
+is lust, of course: even the saints had to fight that--Saint Anthony and
+others. But they had faith, while I have moments, hours, and days, when
+it is absent. Why does the whole world, with all its delights, exist
+if it is sinful and must be renounced? Why hast Thou created this
+temptation? Temptation? Is it not rather a temptation that I wish to
+abandon all the joys of earth and prepare something for myself there
+where perhaps there is nothing?’ And he became horrified and filled with
+disgust at himself. ‘Vile creature! And it is you who wish to become a
+saint!’ he upbraided himself, and he began to pray. But as soon as he
+started to pray he saw himself vividly as he had been at the Monastery,
+in a majestic post in biretta and mantle, and he shook his head. ‘No,
+that is not right. It is deception. I may deceive others, but not myself
+or God. I am not a majestic man, but a pitiable and ridiculous one!’ And
+he threw back the folds of his cassock and smiled as he looked at his
+thin legs in their underclothing.
+
+Then he dropped the folds of the cassock again and began reading the
+prayers, making the sign of the cross and prostrating himself. ‘Can
+it be that this couch will be my bier?’ he read. And it seemed as if a
+devil whispered to him: ‘A solitary couch is itself a bier. Falsehood!’
+And in imagination he saw the shoulders of a widow with whom he had
+lived. He shook himself, and went on reading. Having read the precepts
+he took up the Gospels, opened the book, and happened on a passage
+he often repeated and knew by heart: ‘Lord, I believe. Help thou my
+unbelief!’--and he put away all the doubts that had arisen. As one
+replaces an object of insecure equilibrium, so he carefully replaced his
+belief on its shaky pedestal and carefully stepped back from it so as
+not to shake or upset it. The blinkers were adjusted again and he felt
+tranquillized, and repeating his childhood’s prayer: ‘Lord, receive me,
+receive me!’ he felt not merely at ease, but thrilled and joyful. He
+crossed himself and lay down on the bedding on his narrow bench, tucking
+his summer cassock under his head. He fell asleep at once, and in his
+light slumber he seemed to hear the tinkling of sledge bells. He did not
+know whether he was dreaming or awake, but a knock at the door aroused
+him. He sat up, distrusting his senses, but the knock was repeated. Yes,
+it was a knock close at hand, at his door, and with it the sound of a
+woman’s voice.
+
+‘My God! Can it be true, as I have read in the Lives of the Saints, that
+the devil takes on the form of a woman? Yes--it is a woman’s voice.
+And a tender, timid, pleasant voice. Phui!’ And he spat to exorcise the
+devil. ‘No, it was only my imagination,’ he assured himself, and he
+went to the corner where his lectern stood, falling on his knees in the
+regular and habitual manner which of itself gave him consolation and
+satisfaction. He sank down, his hair hanging over his face, and pressed
+his head, already going bald in front, to the cold damp strip of drugget
+on the draughty floor. He read the psalm old Father Pimon had told him
+warded off temptation. He easily raised his light and emaciated body
+on his strong sinewy legs and tried to continue saying his prayers, but
+instead of doing so he involuntarily strained his hearing. He wished
+to hear more. All was quiet. From the corner of the roof regular drops
+continued to fall into the tub below. Outside was a mist and fog eating
+into the snow that lay on the ground. It was still, very still. And
+suddenly there was a rustling at the window and a voice--that
+same tender, timid voice, which could only belong to an attractive
+woman--said:
+
+‘Let me in, for Christ’s sake!’
+
+It seemed as though his blood had all rushed to his heart and settled
+there. He could hardly breathe. ‘Let God arise and let his enemies be
+scattered...’
+
+‘But I am not a devil!’ It was obvious that the lips that uttered this
+were smiling. ‘I am not a devil, but only a sinful woman who has lost
+her way, not figuratively but literally!’ She laughed. ‘I am frozen and
+beg for shelter.’
+
+He pressed his face to the window, but the little icon-lamp was
+reflected by it and shone on the whole pane. He put his hands to both
+sides of his face and peered between them. Fog, mist, a tree, and--just
+opposite him--she herself. Yes, there, a few inches from him, was the
+sweet, kindly frightened face of a woman in a cap and a coat of long
+white fur, leaning towards him. Their eyes met with instant recognition:
+not that they had ever known one another, they had never met before,
+but by the look they exchanged they--and he particularly--felt that they
+knew and understood one another. After that glance to imagine her to be
+a devil and not a simple, kindly, sweet, timid woman, was impossible.
+
+‘Who are you? Why have you come?’ he asked.
+
+‘Do please open the door!’ she replied, with capricious authority. ‘I am
+frozen. I tell you I have lost my way.’
+
+‘But I am a monk--a hermit.’
+
+‘Oh, do please open the door--or do you wish me to freeze under your
+window while you say your prayers?’
+
+‘But how have you...’
+
+‘I shan’t eat you. For God’s sake let me in! I am quite frozen.’
+
+She really did feel afraid, and said this in an almost tearful voice.
+
+He stepped back from the window and looked at an icon of the Saviour
+in His crown of thorns. ‘Lord, help me! Lord, help me!’ he exclaimed,
+crossing himself and bowing low. Then he went to the door, and opening
+it into the tiny porch, felt for the hook that fastened the outer door
+and began to lift it. He heard steps outside. She was coming from the
+window to the door. ‘Ah!’ she suddenly exclaimed, and he understood
+that she had stepped into the puddle that the dripping from the roof had
+formed at the threshold. His hands trembled, and he could not raise the
+hook of the tightly closed door.
+
+‘Oh, what are you doing? Let me in! I am all wet. I am frozen! You are
+thinking about saving your soul and are letting me freeze to death...’
+
+He jerked the door towards him, raised the hook, and without considering
+what he was doing, pushed it open with such force that it struck her.
+
+‘Oh--PARDON!’ he suddenly exclaimed, reverting completely to his old
+manner with ladies.
+
+She smiled on hearing that PARDON. ‘He is not quite so terrible, after
+all,’ she thought. ‘It’s all right. It is you who must pardon me,’ she
+said, stepping past him. ‘I should never have ventured, but such an
+extraordinary circumstance...’
+
+‘If you please!’ he uttered, and stood aside to let her pass him. A
+strong smell of fine scent, which he had long not encountered, struck
+him. She went through the little porch into the cell where he lived. He
+closed the outer door without fastening the hook, and stepped in after
+her.
+
+‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner! Lord, have
+mercy on me a sinner!’ he prayed unceasingly, not merely to himself but
+involuntarily moving his lips. ‘If you please!’ he said to her again.
+She stood in the middle of the room, moisture dripping from her to the
+floor as she looked him over. Her eyes were laughing.
+
+‘Forgive me for having disturbed your solitude. But you see what a
+position I am in. It all came about from our starting from town for a
+sledge-drive, and my making a bet that I would walk back by myself from
+the Vorobevka to the town. But then I lost my way, and if I had not
+happened to come upon your cell...’ She began lying, but his face
+confused her so that she could not continue, but became silent. She had
+not expected him to be at all such as he was. He was not as handsome
+as she had imagined, but was nevertheless beautiful in her eyes: his
+greyish hair and beard, slightly curling, his fine, regular nose,
+and his eyes like glowing coal when he looked at her, made a strong
+impression on her.
+
+He saw that she was lying.
+
+‘Yes... so,’ said he, looking at her and again lowering his eyes. ‘I
+will go in there, and this place is at your disposal.’
+
+And taking down the little lamp, he lit a candle, and bowing low to her
+went into the small cell beyond the partition, and she heard him begin
+to move something about there. ‘Probably he is barricading himself in
+from me!’ she thought with a smile, and throwing off her white dogskin
+cloak she tried to take off her cap, which had become entangled in her
+hair and in the woven kerchief she was wearing under it. She had not
+got at all wet when standing under the window, and had said so only as
+a pretext to get him to let her in. But she really had stepped into the
+puddle at the door, and her left foot was wet up to the ankle and her
+overshoe full of water. She sat down on his bed--a bench only covered by
+a bit of carpet--and began to take off her boots. The little cell seemed
+to her charming. The narrow little room, some seven feet by nine, was as
+clean as glass. There was nothing in it but the bench on which she
+was sitting, the book-shelf above it, and a lectern in the corner.
+A sheepskin coat and a cassock hung on nails by the door. Above the
+lectern was the little lamp and an icon of Christ in His crown of
+thorns. The room smelt strangely of perspiration and of earth. It all
+pleased her--even that smell. Her wet feet, especially one of them, were
+uncomfortable, and she quickly began to take off her boots and stockings
+without ceasing to smile, pleased not so much at having achieved her
+object as because she perceived that she had abashed that charming,
+strange, striking, and attractive man. ‘He did not respond, but what of
+that?’ she said to herself.
+
+‘Father Sergius! Father Sergius! Or how does one call you?’
+
+‘What do you want?’ replied a quiet voice.
+
+‘Please forgive me for disturbing your solitude, but really I could not
+help it. I should simply have fallen ill. And I don’t know that I shan’t
+now. I am all wet and my feet are like ice.’
+
+‘Pardon me,’ replied the quiet voice. ‘I cannot be of any assistance to
+you.’
+
+‘I would not have disturbed you if I could have helped it. I am only
+here till daybreak.’
+
+He did not reply and she heard him muttering something, probably his
+prayers.
+
+‘You will not be coming in here?’ she asked, smiling. ‘For I must
+undress to dry myself.’
+
+He did not reply, but continued to read his prayers.
+
+‘Yes, that is a man!’ thought she, getting her dripping boot off with
+difficulty. She tugged at it, but could not get it off. The absurdity of
+it struck her and she began to laugh almost inaudibly. But knowing that
+he would hear her laughter and would be moved by it just as she wished
+him to be, she laughed louder, and her laughter--gay, natural, and
+kindly--really acted on him just in the way she wished.
+
+‘Yes, I could love a man like that--such eyes and such a simple noble
+face, and passionate too despite all the prayers he mutters!’ thought
+she. ‘You can’t deceive a woman in these things. As soon as he put his
+face to the window and saw me, he understood and knew. The glimmer of it
+was in his eyes and remained there. He began to love me and desired me.
+Yes--desired!’ said she, getting her overshoe and her boot off at last
+and starting to take off her stockings. To remove those long stockings
+fastened with elastic it was necessary to raise her skirts. She felt
+embarrassed and said:
+
+‘Don’t come in!’
+
+But there was no reply from the other side of the wall. The steady
+muttering continued and also a sound of moving.
+
+‘He is prostrating himself to the ground, no doubt,’ thought she.
+‘But he won’t bow himself out of it. He is thinking of me just as I
+am thinking of him. He is thinking of these feet of mine with the same
+feeling that I have!’ And she pulled off her wet stockings and put her
+feet up on the bench, pressing them under her. She sat a while like that
+with her arms round her knees and looking pensively before her. ‘But it
+is a desert, here in this silence. No one would ever know....’
+
+She rose, took her stockings over to the stove, and hung them on the
+damper. It was a queer damper, and she turned it about, and then,
+stepping lightly on her bare feet, returned to the bench and sat down
+there again with her feet up.
+
+There was complete silence on the other side of the partition. She
+looked at the tiny watch that hung round her neck. It was two o’clock.
+‘Our party should return about three!’ She had not more than an hour
+before her. ‘Well, am I to sit like this all alone? What nonsense! I
+don’t want to. I will call him at once.’
+
+‘Father Sergius, Father Sergius! Sergey Dmitrich! Prince Kasatsky!’
+
+Beyond the partition all was silent.
+
+‘Listen! This is cruel. I would not call you if it were not necessary.
+I am ill. I don’t know what is the matter with me!’ she exclaimed in a
+tone of suffering. ‘Oh! Oh!’ she groaned, falling back on the bench. And
+strange to say she really felt that her strength was failing, that
+she was becoming faint, that everything in her ached, and that she was
+shivering with fever.
+
+‘Listen! Help me! I don’t know what is the matter with me. Oh! Oh!’ She
+unfastened her dress, exposing her breast, and lifted her arms, bare to
+the elbow. ‘Oh! Oh!’
+
+All this time he stood on the other side of the partition and prayed.
+Having finished all the evening prayers, he now stood motionless, his
+eyes looking at the end of his nose, and mentally repeated with all his
+soul: ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon me!’
+
+But he had heard everything. He had heard how the silk rustled when she
+took off her dress, how she stepped with bare feet on the floor, and had
+heard how she rubbed her feet with her hand. He felt his own weakness,
+and that he might be lost at any moment. That was why he prayed
+unceasingly. He felt rather as the hero in the fairy-tale must have felt
+when he had to go on and on without looking round. So Sergius heard and
+felt that danger and destruction were there, hovering above and
+around him, and that he could only save himself by not looking in that
+direction for an instant. But suddenly the desire to look seized him. At
+the same instant she said:
+
+‘This is inhuman. I may die....’
+
+‘Yes, I will go to her, but like the Saint who laid one hand on the
+adulteress and thrust his other into the brazier. But there is no
+brazier here.’ He looked round. The lamp! He put his finger over the
+flame and frowned, preparing himself to suffer. And for a rather long
+time, as it seemed to him, there was no sensation, but suddenly--he
+had not yet decided whether it was painful enough--he writhed all over,
+jerked his hand away, and waved it in the air. ‘No, I can’t stand that!’
+
+‘For God’s sake come to me! I am dying! Oh!’
+
+‘Well--shall I perish? No, not so!’
+
+‘I will come to you directly,’ he said, and having opened his door, he
+went without looking at her through the cell into the porch where he
+used to chop wood. There he felt for the block and for an axe which
+leant against the wall.
+
+‘Immediately!’ he said, and taking up the axe with his right hand he
+laid the forefinger of his left hand on the block, swung the axe, and
+struck with it below the second joint. The finger flew off more lightly
+than a stick of similar thickness, and bounding up, turned over on the
+edge of the block and then fell to the floor.
+
+He heard it fall before he felt any pain, but before he had time to be
+surprised he felt a burning pain and the warmth of flowing blood. He
+hastily wrapped the stump in the skirt of his cassock, and pressing it
+to his hip went back into the room, and standing in front of the woman,
+lowered his eyes and asked in a low voice: ‘What do you want?’
+
+She looked at his pale face and his quivering left cheek, and suddenly
+felt ashamed. She jumped up, seized her fur cloak, and throwing it round
+her shoulders, wrapped herself up in it.
+
+‘I was in pain... I have caught cold... I... Father Sergius...
+I...’
+
+He let his eyes, shining with a quiet light of joy, rest upon her, and
+said:
+
+‘Dear sister, why did you wish to ruin your immortal soul? Temptations
+must come into the world, but woe to him by whom temptation comes. Pray
+that God may forgive us!’
+
+She listened and looked at him. Suddenly she heard the sound of
+something dripping. She looked down and saw that blood was flowing from
+his hand and down his cassock.
+
+‘What have you done to your hand?’ She remembered the sound she had
+heard, and seizing the little lamp ran out into the porch. There on the
+floor she saw the bloody finger. She returned with her face paler than
+his and was about to speak to him, but he silently passed into the back
+cell and fastened the door.
+
+‘Forgive me!’ she said. ‘How can I atone for my sin?’
+
+‘Go away.’
+
+‘Let me tie up your hand.’
+
+‘Go away from here.’
+
+She dressed hurriedly and silently, and when ready sat waiting in her
+furs. The sledge-bells were heard outside.
+
+‘Father Sergius, forgive me!’
+
+‘Go away. God will forgive.’
+
+‘Father Sergius! I will change my life. Do not forsake me!’
+
+‘Go away.’
+
+‘Forgive me--and give me your blessing!’
+
+‘In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost!’--she
+heard his voice from behind the partition. ‘Go!’
+
+She burst into sobs and left the cell. The lawyer came forward to meet
+her.
+
+‘Well, I see I have lost the bet. It can’t be helped. Where will you
+sit?’
+
+‘It is all the same to me.’
+
+She took a seat in the sledge, and did not utter a word all the way
+home.
+
+A year later she entered a convent as a novice, and lived a strict life
+under the direction of the hermit Arseny, who wrote letters to her at
+long intervals.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+Father Sergius lived as a recluse for another seven years.
+
+At first he accepted much of what people brought him--tea, sugar, white
+bread, milk, clothing, and fire-wood. But as time went on he led a more
+and more austere life, refusing everything superfluous, and finally he
+accepted nothing but rye-bread once a week. Everything else that was
+brought to him he gave to the poor who came to him. He spent his entire
+time in his cell, in prayer or in conversation with callers, who became
+more and more numerous as time went on. Only three times a year did
+he go out to church, and when necessary he went out to fetch water and
+wood.
+
+The episode with Makovkina had occurred after five years of his hermit
+life. That occurrence soon became generally known--her nocturnal visit,
+the change she underwent, and her entry into a convent. From that time
+Father Sergius’s fame increased. More and more visitors came to see him,
+other monks settled down near his cell, and a church was erected there
+and also a hostelry. His fame, as usual exaggerating his feats, spread
+ever more and more widely. People began to come to him from a distance,
+and began bringing invalids to him whom they declared he cured.
+
+His first cure occurred in the eighth year of his life as a hermit. It
+was the healing of a fourteen-year-old boy, whose mother brought him
+to Father Sergius insisting that he should lay his hand on the child’s
+head. It had never occurred to Father Sergius that he could cure the
+sick. He would have regarded such a thought as a great sin of pride; but
+the mother who brought the boy implored him insistently, falling at his
+feet and saying: ‘Why do you, who heal others, refuse to help my son?’
+She besought him in Christ’s name. When Father Sergius assured her that
+only God could heal the sick, she replied that she only wanted him to
+lay his hands on the boy and pray for him. Father Sergius refused and
+returned to his cell. But next day (it was in autumn and the nights were
+already cold) on going out for water he saw the same mother with her
+son, a pale boy of fourteen, and was met by the same petition.
+
+He remembered the parable of the unjust judge, and though he had
+previously felt sure that he ought to refuse, he now began to hesitate
+and, having hesitated, took to prayer and prayed until a decision formed
+itself in his soul. This decision was, that he ought to accede to the
+woman’s request and that her faith might save her son. As for himself,
+he would in this case be but an insignificant instrument chosen by God.
+
+And going out to the mother he did what she asked--laid his hand on the
+boy’s head and prayed.
+
+The mother left with her son, and a month later the boy recovered, and
+the fame of the holy healing power of the starets Sergius (as they now
+called him) spread throughout the whole district. After that, not a week
+passed without sick people coming, riding or on foot, to Father Sergius;
+and having acceded to one petition he could not refuse others, and he
+laid his hands on many and prayed. Many recovered, and his fame spread
+more and more.
+
+So seven years passed in the Monastery and thirteen in his hermit’s
+cell. He now had the appearance of an old man: his beard was long and
+grey, but his hair, though thin, was still black and curly.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+For some weeks Father Sergius had been living with one persistent
+thought: whether he was right in accepting the position in which he had
+not so much placed himself as been placed by the Archimandrite and
+the Abbot. That position had begun after the recovery of the
+fourteen-year-old boy. From that time, with each month, week, and day
+that passed, Sergius felt his own inner life wasting away and being
+replaced by external life. It was as if he had been turned inside out.
+
+Sergius saw that he was a means of attracting visitors and contributions
+to the monastery, and that therefore the authorities arranged matters in
+such a way as to make as much use of him as possible. For instance, they
+rendered it impossible for him to do any manual work. He was supplied
+with everything he could want, and they only demanded of him that he
+should not refuse his blessing to those who came to seek it. For his
+convenience they appointed days when he would receive. They arranged a
+reception-room for men, and a place was railed in so that he should not
+be pushed over by the crowds of women visitors, and so that he could
+conveniently bless those who came.
+
+They told him that people needed him, and that fulfilling Christ’s law
+of love he could not refuse their demand to see him, and that to avoid
+them would be cruel. He could not but agree with this, but the more he
+gave himself up to such a life the more he felt that what was internal
+became external, and that the fount of living water within him dried
+up, and that what he did now was done more and more for men and less and
+less for God.
+
+Whether he admonished people, or simply blessed them, or prayed for the
+sick, or advised people about their lives, or listened to expressions of
+gratitude from those he had helped by precepts, or alms, or healing (as
+they assured him)--he could not help being pleased at it, and could not
+be indifferent to the results of his activity and to the influence he
+exerted. He thought himself a shining light, and the more he felt this
+the more was he conscious of a weakening, a dying down of the divine
+light of truth that shone within him.
+
+‘In how far is what I do for God and in how far is it for men?’ That was
+the question that insistently tormented him and to which he was not so
+much unable to give himself an answer as unable to face the answer.
+
+In the depth of his soul he felt that the devil had substituted an
+activity for men in place of his former activity for God. He felt this
+because, just as it had formerly been hard for him to be torn from his
+solitude so now that solitude itself was hard for him. He was oppressed
+and wearied by visitors, but at the bottom of his heart he was glad of
+their presence and glad of the praise they heaped upon him.
+
+There was a time when he decided to go away and hide. He even planned
+all that was necessary for that purpose. He prepared for himself a
+peasant’s shirt, trousers, coat, and cap. He explained that he wanted
+these to give to those who asked. And he kept these clothes in his cell,
+planning how he would put them on, cut his hair short, and go away.
+First he would go some three hundred versts by train, then he would
+leave the train and walk from village to village. He asked an old man
+who had been a soldier how he tramped: what people gave him, and what
+shelter they allowed him. The soldier told him where people were most
+charitable, and where they would take a wanderer in for the night, and
+Father Sergius intended to avail himself of this information. He even
+put on those clothes one night in his desire to go, but he could not
+decide what was best--to remain or to escape. At first he was in doubt,
+but afterwards this indecision passed. He submitted to custom and
+yielded to the devil, and only the peasant garb reminded him of the
+thought and feeling he had had.
+
+Every day more and more people flocked to him and less and less time was
+left him for prayer and for renewing his spiritual strength. Sometimes
+in lucid moments he thought he was like a place where there had once
+been a spring. ‘There used to be a feeble spring of living water which
+flowed quietly from me and through me. That was true life, the time when
+she tempted me!’ (He always thought with ecstasy of that night and of
+her who was now Mother Agnes.) She had tasted of that pure water, but
+since then there had not been time for it to collect before thirsty
+people came crowding in and pushing one another aside. And they had
+trampled everything down and nothing was left but mud.
+
+So he thought in rare moments of lucidity, but his usual state of mind
+was one of weariness and a tender pity for himself because of that
+weariness.
+
+It was in spring, on the eve of the mid-Pentecostal feast. Father
+Sergius was officiating at the Vigil Service in his hermitage church,
+where the congregation was as large as the little church could
+hold--about twenty people. They were all well-to-do proprietors or
+merchants. Father Sergius admitted anyone, but a selection was made by
+the monk in attendance and by an assistant who was sent to the hermitage
+every day from the monastery. A crowd of some eighty people--pilgrims
+and peasants, and especially peasant-women--stood outside waiting for
+Father Sergius to come out and bless them. Meanwhile he conducted
+the service, but at the point at which he went out to the tomb of his
+predecessor, he staggered and would have fallen had he not been caught
+by a merchant standing behind him and by the monk acting as deacon.
+
+‘What is the matter, Father Sergius? Dear man! O Lord!’ exclaimed the
+women. ‘He is as white as a sheet!’
+
+But Father Sergius recovered immediately, and though very pale, he waved
+the merchant and the deacon aside and continued to chant the service.
+
+Father Seraphim, the deacon, the acolytes, and Sofya Ivanovna, a lady
+who always lived near the hermitage and tended Father Sergius, begged
+him to bring the service to an end.
+
+‘No, there’s nothing the matter,’ said Father Sergius, slightly smiling
+from beneath his moustache and continuing the service. ‘Yes, that is the
+way the Saints behave!’ thought he.
+
+‘A holy man--an angel of God!’ he heard just then the voice of Sofya
+Ivanovna behind him, and also of the merchant who had supported him.
+He did not heed their entreaties, but went on with the service. Again
+crowding together they all made their way by the narrow passages back
+into the little church, and there, though abbreviating it slightly,
+Father Sergius completed vespers.
+
+Immediately after the service Father Sergius, having pronounced the
+benediction on those present, went over to the bench under the elm tree
+at the entrance to the cave. He wished to rest and breathe the fresh
+air--he felt in need of it. But as soon as he left the church the crowd
+of people rushed to him soliciting his blessing, his advice, and his
+help. There were pilgrims who constantly tramped from one holy place to
+another and from one starets to another, and were always entranced by
+every shrine and every starets. Father Sergius knew this common, cold,
+conventional, and most irreligious type. There were pilgrims, for
+the most part discharged soldiers, unaccustomed to a settled life,
+poverty-stricken, and many of them drunken old men, who tramped from
+monastery to monastery merely to be fed. And there were rough peasants
+and peasant-women who had come with their selfish requirements, seeking
+cures or to have doubts about quite practical affairs solved for them:
+about marrying off a daughter, or hiring a shop, or buying a bit
+of land, or how to atone for having overlaid a child or having an
+illegitimate one.
+
+All this was an old story and not in the least interesting to him. He
+knew he would hear nothing new from these folk, that they would arouse
+no religious emotion in him; but he liked to see the crowd to which
+his blessing and advice was necessary and precious, so while that crowd
+oppressed him it also pleased him. Father Seraphim began to drive them
+away, saying that Father Sergius was tired.
+
+But Father Sergius, remembering the words of the Gospel: ‘Forbid them’
+(children) ‘not to come unto me,’ and feeling tenderly towards himself
+at this recollection, said they should be allowed to approach.
+
+He rose, went to the railing beyond which the crowd had gathered, and
+began blessing them and answering their questions, but in a voice so
+weak that he was touched with pity for himself. Yet despite his wish to
+receive them all he could not do it. Things again grew dark before his
+eyes, and he staggered and grasped the railings. He felt a rush of blood
+to his head and first went pale and then suddenly flushed.
+
+‘I must leave the rest till to-morrow. I cannot do more to-day,’
+and, pronouncing a general benediction, he returned to the bench. The
+merchant again supported him, and leading him by the arm helped him to
+be seated.
+
+‘Father!’ came voices from the crowd. ‘Dear Father! Do not forsake us.
+Without you we are lost!’
+
+The merchant, having seated Father Sergius on the bench under the elm,
+took on himself police duties and drove the people off very resolutely.
+It is true that he spoke in a low voice so that Father Sergius might not
+hear him, but his words were incisive and angry.
+
+‘Be off, be off! He has blessed you, and what more do you want? Get
+along with you, or I’ll wring your necks! Move on there! Get along, you
+old woman with your dirty leg-bands! Go, go! Where are you shoving to?
+You’ve been told that it is finished. To-morrow will be as God wills,
+but for to-day he has finished!’
+
+‘Father! Only let my eyes have a glimpse of his dear face!’ said an old
+woman.
+
+‘I’ll glimpse you! Where are you shoving to?’
+
+Father Sergius noticed that the merchant seemed to be acting roughly,
+and in a feeble voice told the attendant that the people should not be
+driven away. He knew that they would be driven away all the same, and
+he much desired to be left alone and to rest, but he sent the attendant
+with that message to produce an impression.
+
+‘All right, all right! I am not driving them away. I am only
+remonstrating with them,’ replied the merchant. ‘You know they wouldn’t
+hesitate to drive a man to death. They have no pity, they only consider
+themselves.... You’ve been told you cannot see him. Go away!
+To-morrow!’ And he got rid of them all.
+
+He took all these pains because he liked order and liked to domineer
+and drive the people away, but chiefly because he wanted to have Father
+Sergius to himself. He was a widower with an only daughter who was an
+invalid and unmarried, and whom he had brought fourteen hundred versts
+to Father Sergius to be healed. For two years past he had been taking
+her to different places to be cured: first to the university clinic in
+the chief town of the province, but that did no good; then to a peasant
+in the province of Samara, where she got a little better; then to a
+doctor in Moscow to whom he paid much money, but this did no good at
+all. Now he had been told that Father Sergius wrought cures, and had
+brought her to him. So when all the people had been driven away he
+approached Father Sergius, and suddenly falling on his knees loudly
+exclaimed:
+
+‘Holy Father! Bless my afflicted offspring that she may be healed of her
+malady. I venture to prostrate myself at your holy feet.’
+
+And he placed one hand on the other, cup-wise. He said and did all this
+as if he were doing something clearly and firmly appointed by law and
+usage--as if one must and should ask for a daughter to be cured in just
+this way and no other. He did it with such conviction that it seemed
+even to Father Sergius that it should be said and done in just that way,
+but nevertheless he bade him rise and tell him what the trouble was. The
+merchant said that his daughter, a girl of twenty-two, had fallen ill
+two years ago, after her mother’s sudden death. She had moaned (as
+he expressed it) and since then had not been herself. And now he had
+brought her fourteen hundred versts and she was waiting in the hostelry
+till Father Sergius should give orders to bring her. She did not go out
+during the day, being afraid of the light, and could only come after
+sunset.
+
+‘Is she very weak?’ asked Father Sergius.
+
+‘No, she has no particular weakness. She is quite plump, and is only
+“nerastenic” the doctors say. If you will only let me bring her this
+evening, Father Sergius, I’ll fly like a spirit to fetch her. Holy
+Father! Revive a parent’s heart, restore his line, save his afflicted
+daughter by your prayers!’ And the merchant again threw himself on his
+knees and bending sideways, with his head resting on his clenched fists,
+remained stock still. Father Sergius again told him to get up, and
+thinking how heavy his activities were and how he went through with them
+patiently notwithstanding, he sighed heavily and after a few seconds of
+silence, said:
+
+‘Well, bring her this evening. I will pray for her, but now I am
+tired....’ and he closed his eyes. ‘I will send for you.’
+
+The merchant went away, stepping on tiptoe, which only made his boots
+creak the louder, and Father Sergius remained alone.
+
+His whole life was filled by Church services and by people who came
+to see him, but to-day had been a particularly difficult one. In
+the morning an important official had arrived and had had a long
+conversation with him; after that a lady had come with her son. This son
+was a sceptical young professor whom the mother, an ardent believer and
+devoted to Father Sergius, had brought that he might talk to him. The
+conversation had been very trying. The young man, evidently not wishing
+to have a controversy with a monk, had agreed with him in everything
+as with someone who was mentally inferior. Father Sergius saw that the
+young man did not believe but yet was satisfied, tranquil, and at ease,
+and the memory of that conversation now disquieted him.
+
+‘Have something to eat, Father,’ said the attendant.
+
+‘All right, bring me something.’
+
+The attendant went to a hut that had been arranged some ten paces from
+the cave, and Father Sergius remained alone.
+
+The time was long past when he had lived alone doing everything for
+himself and eating only rye-bread, or rolls prepared for the Church. He
+had been advised long since that he had no right to neglect his health,
+and he was given wholesome, though Lenten, food. He ate sparingly,
+though much more than he had done, and often he ate with much pleasure,
+and not as formerly with aversion and a sense of guilt. So it was now.
+He had some gruel, drank a cup of tea, and ate half a white roll.
+
+The attendant went away, and Father Sergius remained alone under the elm
+tree.
+
+It was a wonderful May evening, when the birches, aspens, elms, wild
+cherries, and oaks, had just burst into foliage.
+
+The bush of wild cherries behind the elm tree was in full bloom and had
+not yet begun to shed its blossoms, and the nightingales--one quite near
+at hand and two or three others in the bushes down by the river--burst
+into full song after some preliminary twitters. From the river came the
+far-off songs of peasants returning, no doubt, from their work. The sun
+was setting behind the forest, its last rays glowing through the leaves.
+All that side was brilliant green, the other side with the elm tree was
+dark. The cockchafers flew clumsily about, falling to the ground when
+they collided with anything.
+
+After supper Father Sergius began to repeat a silent prayer: ‘O Lord
+Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon us!’ and then he read a psalm,
+and suddenly in the middle of the psalm a sparrow flew out from the
+bush, alighted on the ground, and hopped towards him chirping as it
+came, but then it took fright at something and flew away. He said a
+prayer which referred to his abandonment of the world, and hastened to
+finish it in order to send for the merchant with the sick daughter. She
+interested him in that she presented a distraction, and because both she
+and her father considered him a saint whose prayers were efficacious.
+Outwardly he disavowed that idea, but in the depths of his soul he
+considered it to be true.
+
+He was often amazed that this had happened, that he, Stepan Kasatsky,
+had come to be such an extraordinary saint and even a worker of
+miracles, but of the fact that he was such there could not be the
+least doubt. He could not fail to believe in the miracles he himself
+witnessed, beginning with the sick boy and ending with the old woman who
+had recovered her sight when he had prayed for her.
+
+Strange as it might be, it was so. Accordingly the merchant’s daughter
+interested him as a new individual who had faith in him, and also as a
+fresh opportunity to confirm his healing powers and enhance his fame.
+‘They bring people a thousand versts and write about it in the papers.
+The Emperor knows of it, and they know of it in Europe, in unbelieving
+Europe’--thought he. And suddenly he felt ashamed of his vanity and
+again began to pray. ‘Lord, King of Heaven, Comforter, Soul of Truth!
+Come and enter into me and cleanse me from all sin and save and bless
+my soul. Cleanse me from the sin of worldly vanity that troubles me!’ he
+repeated, and he remembered how often he had prayed about this and how
+vain till now his prayers had been in that respect. His prayers worked
+miracles for others, but in his own case God had not granted him
+liberation from this petty passion.
+
+He remembered his prayers at the commencement of his life at the
+hermitage, when he prayed for purity, humility, and love, and how it
+seemed to him then that God heard his prayers. He had retained his
+purity and had chopped off his finger. And he lifted the shrivelled
+stump of that finger to his lips and kissed it. It seemed to him now
+that he had been humble then when he had always seemed loathsome to
+himself on account of his sinfulness; and when he remembered the tender
+feelings with which he had then met an old man who was bringing a
+drunken soldier to him to ask alms; and how he had received HER, it
+seemed to him that he had then possessed love also. But now? And he
+asked himself whether he loved anyone, whether he loved Sofya Ivanovna,
+or Father Seraphim, whether he had any feeling of love for all who had
+come to him that day--for that learned young man with whom he had had
+that instructive discussion in which he was concerned only to show off
+his own intelligence and that he had not lagged behind the times in
+knowledge. He wanted and needed their love, but felt none towards them.
+He now had neither love nor humility nor purity.
+
+He was pleased to know that the merchant’s daughter was twenty-two, and
+he wondered whether she was good-looking. When he inquired whether she
+was weak, he really wanted to know if she had feminine charm.
+
+‘Can I have fallen so low?’ he thought. ‘Lord, help me! Restore me, my
+Lord and God!’ And he clasped his hands and began to pray.
+
+The nightingales burst into song, a cockchafer knocked against him and
+crept up the back of his neck. He brushed it off. ‘But does He exist?
+What if I am knocking at a door fastened from outside? The bar is on the
+door for all to see. Nature--the nightingales and the cockchafers--is
+that bar. Perhaps the young man was right.’ And he began to pray aloud.
+He prayed for a long time till these thoughts vanished and he again felt
+calm and confident. He rang the bell and told the attendant to say that
+the merchant might bring his daughter to him now.
+
+The merchant came, leading his daughter by the arm. He led her into the
+cell and immediately left her.
+
+She was a very fair girl, plump and very short, with a pale, frightened,
+childish face and a much developed feminine figure. Father Sergius
+remained seated on the bench at the entrance and when she was passing
+and stopped beside him for his blessing he was aghast at himself for
+the way he looked at her figure. As she passed by him he was acutely
+conscious of her femininity, though he saw by her face that she was
+sensual and feeble-minded. He rose and went into the cell. She was
+sitting on a stool waiting for him, and when he entered she rose.
+
+‘I want to go back to Papa,’ she said.
+
+‘Don’t be afraid,’ he replied. ‘What are you suffering from?’
+
+‘I am in pain all over,’ she said, and suddenly her face lit up with a
+smile.
+
+‘You will be well,’ said he. ‘Pray!’
+
+‘What is the use of praying? I have prayed and it does no good’--and she
+continued to smile. ‘I want you to pray for me and lay your hands on me.
+I saw you in a dream.’
+
+‘How did you see me?’
+
+‘I saw you put your hands on my breast like that.’ She took his hand and
+pressed it to her breast. ‘Just here.’
+
+He yielded his right hand to her.
+
+‘What is your name?’ he asked, trembling all over and feeling that he
+was overcome and that his desire had already passed beyond control.
+
+‘Marie. Why?’
+
+She took his hand and kissed it, and then put her arm round his waist
+and pressed him to herself.
+
+‘What are you doing?’ he said. ‘Marie, you are a devil!’
+
+‘Oh, perhaps. What does it matter?’
+
+And embracing him she sat down with him on the bed.
+
+At dawn he went out into the porch.
+
+‘Can this all have happened? Her father will come and she will tell him
+everything. She is a devil! What am I to do? Here is the axe with which
+I chopped off my finger.’ He snatched up the axe and moved back towards
+the cell.
+
+The attendant came up.
+
+‘Do you want some wood chopped? Let me have the axe.’
+
+Sergius yielded up the axe and entered the cell. She was lying
+there asleep. He looked at her with horror, and passed on beyond the
+partition, where he took down the peasant clothes and put them on. Then
+he seized a pair of scissors, cut off his long hair, and went out along
+the path down the hill to the river, where he had not been for more than
+three years.
+
+A road ran beside the river and he went along it and walked till noon.
+Then he went into a field of rye and lay down there. Towards evening
+he approached a village, but without entering it went towards the cliff
+that overhung the river. There he again lay down to rest.
+
+It was early morning, half an hour before sunrise. All was damp and
+gloomy and a cold early wind was blowing from the west. ‘Yes, I must end
+it all. There is no God. But how am I to end it? Throw myself into the
+river? I can swim and should not drown. Hang myself? Yes, just throw
+this sash over a branch.’ This seemed so feasible and so easy that
+he felt horrified. As usual at moments of despair he felt the need of
+prayer. But there was no one to pray to. There was no God. He lay down
+resting on his arm, and suddenly such a longing for sleep overcame him
+that he could no longer support his head on his hand, but stretched out
+his arm, laid his head upon it, and fell asleep. But that sleep lasted
+only for a moment. He woke up immediately and began not to dream but to
+remember.
+
+He saw himself as a child in his mother’s home in the country. A
+carriage drives up, and out of it steps Uncle Nicholas Sergeevich,
+with his long, spade-shaped, black beard, and with him Pashenka, a thin
+little girl with large mild eyes and a timid pathetic face. And into
+their company of boys Pashenka is brought and they have to play with
+her, but it is dull. She is silly, and it ends by their making fun of
+her and forcing her to show how she can swim. She lies down on the floor
+and shows them, and they all laugh and make a fool of her. She sees this
+and blushes red in patches and becomes more pitiable than before,
+so pitiable that he feels ashamed and can never forget that crooked,
+kindly, submissive smile. And Sergius remembered having seen her since
+then. Long after, just before he became a monk, she had married a
+landowner who squandered all her fortune and was in the habit of beating
+her. She had had two children, a son and a daughter, but the son had
+died while still young. And Sergius remembered having seen her very
+wretched. Then again he had seen her in the monastery when she was a
+widow. She had been still the same, not exactly stupid, but insipid,
+insignificant, and pitiable. She had come with her daughter and her
+daughter’s fiance. They were already poor at that time and later on he
+had heard that she was living in a small provincial town and was very
+poor.
+
+‘Why am I thinking about her?’ he asked himself, but he could not cease
+doing so. ‘Where is she? How is she getting on? Is she still as unhappy
+as she was then when she had to show us how to swim on the floor? But
+why should I think about her? What am I doing? I must put an end to
+myself.’
+
+And again he felt afraid, and again, to escape from that thought, he
+went on thinking about Pashenka.
+
+So he lay for a long time, thinking now of his unavoidable end and now
+of Pashenka. She presented herself to him as a means of salvation. At
+last he fell asleep, and in his sleep he saw an angel who came to him
+and said: ‘Go to Pashenka and learn from her what you have to do, what
+your sin is, and wherein lies your salvation.’
+
+He awoke, and having decided that this was a vision sent by God, he felt
+glad, and resolved to do what had been told him in the vision. He knew
+the town where she lived. It was some three hundred versts (two hundred
+miles) away, and he set out to walk there.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+Pashenka had already long ceased to be Pashenka and had become old,
+withered, wrinkled Praskovya Mikhaylovna, mother-in-law of that failure,
+the drunken official Mavrikyev. She was living in the country town
+where he had had his last appointment, and there she was supporting the
+family: her daughter, her ailing neurasthenic son-in-law, and her five
+grandchildren. She did this by giving music lessons to tradesmen’s
+daughters, giving four and sometimes five lessons a day of an hour each,
+and earning in this way some sixty rubles (6 pounds) a month. So they
+lived for the present, in expectation of another appointment. She had
+sent letters to all her relations and acquaintances asking them to
+obtain a post for her son-in-law, and among the rest she had written to
+Sergius, but that letter had not reached him.
+
+It was a Saturday, and Praskovya Mikhaylovna was herself mixing dough
+for currant bread such as the serf-cook on her father’s estate used
+to make so well. She wished to give her grandchildren a treat on the
+Sunday.
+
+Masha, her daughter, was nursing her youngest child, the eldest boy and
+girl were at school, and her son-in-law was asleep, not having slept
+during the night. Praskovya Mikhaylovna had remained awake too for a
+great part of the night, trying to soften her daughter’s anger against
+her husband.
+
+She saw that it was impossible for her son-in-law, a weak creature, to
+be other than he was, and realized that his wife’s reproaches could do
+no good--so she used all her efforts to soften those reproaches and to
+avoid recrimination and anger. Unkindly relations between people caused
+her actual physical suffering. It was so clear to her that bitter
+feelings do not make anything better, but only make everything worse.
+She did not in fact think about this: she simply suffered at the sight
+of anger as she would from a bad smell, a harsh noise, or from blows on
+her body.
+
+She had--with a feeling of self-satisfaction--just taught Lukerya how
+to mix the dough, when her six-year-old grandson Misha, wearing an
+apron and with darned stockings on his crooked little legs, ran into the
+kitchen with a frightened face.
+
+‘Grandma, a dreadful old man wants to see you.’
+
+Lukerya looked out at the door.
+
+‘There is a pilgrim of some kind, a man...’
+
+Praskovya Mikhaylovna rubbed her thin elbows against one another, wiped
+her hands on her apron and went upstairs to get a five-kopek piece
+[about a penny] out of her purse for him, but remembering that she had
+nothing less than a ten-kopek piece she decided to give him some bread
+instead. She returned to the cupboard, but suddenly blushed at the
+thought of having grudged the ten-kopek piece, and telling Lukerya to
+cut a slice of bread, went upstairs again to fetch it. ‘It serves you
+right,’ she said to herself. ‘You must now give twice over.’
+
+She gave both the bread and the money to the pilgrim, and when doing
+so--far from being proud of her generosity--she excused herself for
+giving so little. The man had such an imposing appearance.
+
+Though he had tramped two hundred versts as a beggar, though he was
+tattered and had grown thin and weatherbeaten, though he had cropped his
+long hair and was wearing a peasant’s cap and boots, and though he bowed
+very humbly, Sergius still had the impressive appearance that made him
+so attractive. But Praskovya Mikhaylovna did not recognize him. She
+could hardly do so, not having seen him for almost twenty years.
+
+‘Don’t think ill of me, Father. Perhaps you want something to eat?’
+
+He took the bread and the money, and Praskovya Mikhaylovna was surprised
+that he did not go, but stood looking at her.
+
+‘Pashenka, I have come to you! Take me in...’
+
+His beautiful black eyes, shining with the tears that started in them,
+were fixed on her with imploring insistence. And under his greyish
+moustache his lips quivered piteously.
+
+Praskovya Mikhaylovna pressed her hands to her withered breast, opened
+her mouth, and stood petrified, staring at the pilgrim with dilated
+eyes.
+
+‘It can’t be! Stepa! Sergey! Father Sergius!’
+
+‘Yes, it is I,’ said Sergius in a low voice. ‘Only not Sergius, or
+Father Sergius, but a great sinner, Stepan Kasatsky--a great and lost
+sinner. Take me in and help me!’
+
+‘It’s impossible! How have you so humbled yourself? But come in.’
+
+She reached out her hand, but he did not take it and only followed her
+in.
+
+But where was she to take him? The lodging was a small one. Formerly
+she had had a tiny room, almost a closet, for herself, but later she had
+given it up to her daughter, and Masha was now sitting there rocking the
+baby.
+
+‘Sit here for the present,’ she said to Sergius, pointing to a bench in
+the kitchen.
+
+He sat down at once, and with an evidently accustomed movement slipped
+the straps of his wallet first off one shoulder and then off the other.
+
+‘My God, my God! How you have humbled yourself, Father! Such great fame,
+and now like this...’
+
+Sergius did not reply, but only smiled meekly, placing his wallet under
+the bench on which he sat.
+
+‘Masha, do you know who this is?’--And in a whisper Praskovya
+Mikhaylovna told her daughter who he was, and together they then carried
+the bed and the cradle out of the tiny room and cleared it for Sergius.
+
+Praskovya Mikhaylovna led him into it.
+
+‘Here you can rest. Don’t take offence... but I must go out.’
+
+‘Where to?’
+
+‘I have to go to a lesson. I am ashamed to tell you, but I teach music!’
+
+‘Music? But that is good. Only just one thing, Praskovya Mikhaylovna,
+I have come to you with a definite object. When can I have a talk with
+you?’
+
+‘I shall be very glad. Will this evening do?’
+
+‘Yes. But one thing more. Don’t speak about me, or say who I am. I have
+revealed myself only to you. No one knows where I have gone to. It must
+be so.’
+
+‘Oh, but I have told my daughter.’
+
+‘Well, ask her not to mention it.’
+
+And Sergius took off his boots, lay down, and at once fell asleep after
+a sleepless night and a walk of nearly thirty miles.
+
+When Praskovya Mikhaylovna returned, Sergius was sitting in the little
+room waiting for her. He did not come out for dinner, but had some soup
+and gruel which Lukerya brought him.
+
+‘How is it that you have come back earlier than you said?’ asked
+Sergius. ‘Can I speak to you now?’
+
+‘How is it that I have the happiness to receive such a guest? I have
+missed one of my lessons. That can wait... I had always been planning
+to go to see you. I wrote to you, and now this good fortune has come.’
+
+‘Pashenka, please listen to what I am going to tell you as to a
+confession made to God at my last hour. Pashenka, I am not a holy man,
+I am not even as good as a simple ordinary man; I am a loathsome,
+vile, and proud sinner who has gone astray, and who, if not worse than
+everyone else, is at least worse than most very bad people.’
+
+Pashenka looked at him at first with staring eyes. But she believed what
+he said, and when she had quite grasped it she touched his hand, smiling
+pityingly, and said:
+
+‘Perhaps you exaggerate, Stiva?’
+
+‘No, Pashenka. I am an adulterer, a murderer, a blasphemer, and a
+deceiver.’
+
+‘My God! How is that?’ exclaimed Praskovya Mikhaylovna.
+
+‘But I must go on living. And I, who thought I knew everything, who
+taught others how to live--I know nothing and ask you to teach me.’
+
+‘What are you saying, Stiva? You are laughing at me. Why do you always
+make fun of me?’
+
+‘Well, if you think I am jesting you must have it as you please. But
+tell me all the same how you live, and how you have lived your life.’
+
+‘I? I have lived a very nasty, horrible life, and now God is punishing
+me as I deserve. I live so wretchedly, so wretchedly...’
+
+‘How was it with your marriage? How did you live with your husband?’
+
+‘It was all bad. I married because I fell in love in the nastiest way.
+Papa did not approve. But I would not listen to anything and just
+got married. Then instead of helping my husband I tormented him by my
+jealousy, which I could not restrain.’
+
+‘I heard that he drank...’
+
+‘Yes, but I did not give him any peace. I always reproached him, though
+you know it is a disease! He could not refrain from it. I now remember
+how I tried to prevent his having it, and the frightful scenes we had!’
+
+And she looked at Kasatsky with beautiful eyes, suffering from the
+remembrance.
+
+Kasatsky remembered how he had been told that Pashenka’s husband used
+to beat her, and now, looking at her thin withered neck with prominent
+veins behind her ears, and her scanty coil of hair, half grey half
+auburn, he seemed to see just how it had occurred.
+
+‘Then I was left with two children and no means at all.’
+
+‘But you had an estate!’
+
+‘Oh, we sold that while Vasya was still alive, and the money was all
+spent. We had to live, and like all our young ladies I did not know how
+to earn anything. I was particularly useless and helpless. So we spent
+all we had. I taught the children and improved my own education a
+little. And then Mitya fell ill when he was already in the fourth
+form, and God took him. Masha fell in love with Vanya, my son-in-law.
+And--well, he is well-meaning but unfortunate. He is ill.’
+
+‘Mamma!’--her daughter’s voice interrupted her--‘Take Mitya! I can’t be
+in two places at once.’
+
+Praskovya Mikhaylovna shuddered, but rose and went out of the room,
+stepping quickly in her patched shoes. She soon came back with a boy of
+two in her arms, who threw himself backwards and grabbed at her shawl
+with his little hands.
+
+‘Where was I? Oh yes, he had a good appointment here, and his chief
+was a kind man too. But Vanya could not go on, and had to give up his
+position.’
+
+‘What is the matter with him?’
+
+‘Neurasthenia--it is a dreadful complaint. We consulted a doctor, who
+told us he ought to go away, but we had no means.... I always hope it
+will pass of itself. He has no particular pain, but...’
+
+‘Lukerya!’ cried an angry and feeble voice. ‘She is always sent away
+when I want her. Mamma...’
+
+‘I’m coming!’ Praskovya Mikhaylovna again interrupted herself. ‘He has
+not had his dinner yet. He can’t eat with us.’
+
+She went out and arranged something, and came back wiping her thin dark
+hands.
+
+‘So that is how I live. I always complain and am always dissatisfied,
+but thank God the grandchildren are all nice and healthy, and we can
+still live. But why talk about me?’
+
+‘But what do you live on?’
+
+‘Well, I earn a little. How I used to dislike music, but how useful it
+is to me now!’ Her small hand lay on the chest of drawers beside which
+she was sitting, and she drummed an exercise with her thin fingers.
+
+‘How much do you get for a lesson?’
+
+‘Sometimes a ruble, sometimes fifty kopeks, or sometimes thirty. They
+are all so kind to me.’
+
+‘And do your pupils get on well?’ asked Kasatsky with a slight smile.
+
+Praskovya Mikhaylovna did not at first believe that he was asking
+seriously, and looked inquiringly into his eyes.
+
+‘Some of them do. One of them is a splendid girl--the butcher’s
+daughter--such a good kind girl! If I were a clever woman I ought, of
+course, with the connexions Papa had, to be able to get an appointment
+for my son-in-law. But as it is I have not been able to do anything, and
+have brought them all to this--as you see.’
+
+‘Yes, yes,’ said Kasatsky, lowering his head. ‘And how is it,
+Pashenka--do you take part in Church life?’
+
+‘Oh, don’t speak of it. I am so bad that way, and have neglected it so!
+I keep the fasts with the children and sometimes go to church, and then
+again sometimes I don’t go for months. I only send the children.’
+
+‘But why don’t you go yourself?’
+
+‘To tell the truth’ (she blushed) ‘I am ashamed, for my daughter’s
+sake and the children’s, to go there in tattered clothes, and I haven’t
+anything else. Besides, I am just lazy.’
+
+‘And do you pray at home?’
+
+‘I do. But what sort of prayer is it? Only mechanical. I know it should
+not be like that, but I lack real religious feeling. The only thing is
+that I know how bad I am...’
+
+‘Yes, yes, that’s right!’ said Kasatsky, as if approvingly.
+
+‘I’m coming! I’m coming!’ she replied to a call from her son-in-law, and
+tidying her scanty plait she left the room.
+
+But this time it was long before she returned. When she came back,
+Kasatsky was sitting in the same position, his elbows resting on his
+knees and his head bowed. But his wallet was strapped on his back.
+
+When she came in, carrying a small tin lamp without a shade, he raised
+his fine weary eyes and sighed very deeply.
+
+‘I did not tell them who you are,’ she began timidly. ‘I only said that
+you are a pilgrim, a nobleman, and that I used to know you. Come into
+the dining-room for tea.’
+
+‘No...’
+
+‘Well then, I’ll bring some to you here.’
+
+‘No, I don’t want anything. God bless you, Pashenka! I am going now. If
+you pity me, don’t tell anyone that you have seen me. For the love of
+God don’t tell anyone. Thank you. I would bow to your feet but I know
+it would make you feel awkward. Thank you, and forgive me for Christ’s
+sake!’
+
+‘Give me your blessing.’
+
+‘God bless you! Forgive me for Christ’s sake!’
+
+He rose, but she would not let him go until she had given him bread and
+butter and rusks. He took it all and went away.
+
+It was dark, and before he had passed the second house he was lost to
+sight. She only knew he was there because the dog at the priest’s house
+was barking.
+
+‘So that is what my dream meant! Pashenka is what I ought to have been
+but failed to be. I lived for men on the pretext of living for God,
+while she lived for God imagining that she lives for men. Yes, one good
+deed--a cup of water given without thought of reward--is worth more
+than any benefit I imagined I was bestowing on people. But after all was
+there not some share of sincere desire to serve God?’ he asked himself,
+and the answer was: ‘Yes, there was, but it was all soiled and overgrown
+by desire for human praise. Yes, there is no God for the man who lives,
+as I did, for human praise. I will now seek Him!’
+
+And he walked from village to village as he had done on his way to
+Pashenka, meeting and parting from other pilgrims, men and women, and
+asking for bread and a night’s rest in Christ’s name. Occasionally some
+angry housewife scolded him, or a drunken peasant reviled him, but for
+the most part he was given food and drink and even something to take
+with him. His noble bearing disposed some people in his favour, while
+others on the contrary seemed pleased at the sight of a gentleman who
+had come to beggary.
+
+But his gentleness prevailed with everyone.
+
+Often, finding a copy of the Gospels in a hut he would read it aloud,
+and when they heard him the people were always touched and surprised, as
+at something new yet familiar.
+
+When he succeeded in helping people, either by advice, or by his
+knowledge of reading and writing, or by settling some quarrel, he did
+not wait to see their gratitude but went away directly afterwards. And
+little by little God began to reveal Himself within him.
+
+Once he was walking along with two old women and a soldier. They were
+stopped by a party consisting of a lady and gentleman in a gig and
+another lady and gentleman on horseback. The husband was on horseback
+with his daughter, while in the gig his wife was driving with a
+Frenchman, evidently a traveller.
+
+The party stopped to let the Frenchman see the pilgrims who, in accord
+with a popular Russian superstition, tramped about from place to place
+instead of working.
+
+They spoke French, thinking that the others would not understand them.
+
+‘Demandez-leur,’ said the Frenchman, ‘s’ils sont bien sur de ce que leur
+pelerinage est agreable a Dieu.’
+
+The question was asked, and one old woman replied:
+
+‘As God takes it. Our feet have reached the holy places, but our hearts
+may not have done so.’
+
+They asked the soldier. He said that he was alone in the world and had
+nowhere else to go.
+
+They asked Kasatsky who he was.
+
+‘A servant of God.’
+
+‘Qu’est-ce qu’il dit? Il ne repond pas.’
+
+‘Il dit qu’il est un serviteur de Dieu. Cela doit etre un fils de
+preetre. Il a de la race. Avez-vous de la petite monnaie?’
+
+The Frenchman found some small change and gave twenty kopeks to each of
+the pilgrims.
+
+‘Mais dites-leur que ce n’est pas pour les cierges que je leur donne,
+mais pour qu’ils se regalent de the. Chay, chay pour vous, mon vieux!’
+he said with a smile. And he patted Kasatsky on the shoulder with his
+gloved hand.
+
+‘May Christ bless you,’ replied Kasatsky without replacing his cap and
+bowing his bald head.
+
+He rejoiced particularly at this meeting, because he had disregarded the
+opinion of men and had done the simplest, easiest thing--humbly accepted
+twenty kopeks and given them to his comrade, a blind beggar. The less
+importance he attached to the opinion of men the more did he feel the
+presence of God within him.
+
+For eight months Kasatsky tramped on in this manner, and in the ninth
+month he was arrested for not having a passport. This happened at a
+night-refuge in a provincial town where he had passed the night with
+some pilgrims. He was taken to the police-station, and when asked who he
+was and where was his passport, he replied that he had no passport and
+that he was a servant of God. He was classed as a tramp, sentenced, and
+sent to live in Siberia.
+
+In Siberia he has settled down as the hired man of a well-to-do peasant,
+in which capacity he works in the kitchen-garden, teaches children, and
+attends to the sick.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Father Sergius, by Leo Tolstoy
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+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      Father Sergius, by Leo Tolstoy
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
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+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Father Sergius, by Leo Tolstoy
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Father Sergius
+
+Author: Leo Tolstoy
+
+Translator: Louise and Aylmer Maude
+
+Release Date: July 9, 2009 [EBook #985]
+Last Updated: September 10, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FATHER SERGIUS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judith Boss, and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      FATHER SERGIUS
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By Leo Tolstoy
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      Contents
+    </h3>
+    <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto">
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> VI </a>
+          </p>
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+    </table>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      I
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      In Petersburg in the eighteen-forties a surprising event occurred. An
+      officer of the Cuirassier Life Guards, a handsome prince who everyone
+      predicted would become aide-de-camp to the Emperor Nicholas I. and have a
+      brilliant career, left the service, broke off his engagement to a
+      beautiful maid of honour, a favourite of the Empress&rsquo;s, gave his small
+      estate to his sister, and retired to a monastery to become a monk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This event appeared extraordinary and inexplicable to those who did not
+      know his inner motives, but for Prince Stepan Kasatsky himself it all
+      occurred so naturally that he could not imagine how he could have acted
+      otherwise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His father, a retired colonel of the Guards, had died when Stepan was
+      twelve, and sorry as his mother was to part from her son, she entered him
+      at the Military College as her deceased husband had intended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The widow herself, with her daughter, Varvara, moved to Petersburg to be
+      near her son and have him with her for the holidays.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The boy was distinguished both by his brilliant ability and by his immense
+      self-esteem. He was first both in his studies&mdash;especially in
+      mathematics, of which he was particularly fond&mdash;and also in drill and
+      in riding. Though of more than average height, he was handsome and agile,
+      and he would have been an altogether exemplary cadet had it not been for
+      his quick temper. He was remarkably truthful, and was neither dissipated
+      nor addicted to drink. The only faults that marred his conduct were fits
+      of fury to which he was subject and during which he lost control of
+      himself and became like a wild animal. He once nearly threw out of the
+      window another cadet who had begun to tease him about his collection of
+      minerals. On another occasion he came almost completely to grief by
+      flinging a whole dish of cutlets at an officer who was acting as steward,
+      attacking him and, it was said, striking him for having broken his word
+      and told a barefaced lie. He would certainly have been reduced to the
+      ranks had not the Director of the College hushed up the whole matter and
+      dismissed the steward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By the time he was eighteen he had finished his College course and
+      received a commission as lieutenant in an aristocratic regiment of the
+      Guards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Emperor Nicholas Pavlovich (Nicholas I) had noticed him while he was
+      still at the College, and continued to take notice of him in the regiment,
+      and it was on this account that people predicted for him an appointment as
+      aide-de-camp to the Emperor. Kasatsky himself strongly desired it, not
+      from ambition only but chiefly because since his cadet days he had been
+      passionately devoted to Nicholas Pavlovich. The Emperor had often visited
+      the Military College and every time Kasatsky saw that tall erect figure,
+      with breast expanded in its military overcoat, entering with brisk step,
+      saw the cropped side-whiskers, the moustache, the aquiline nose, and heard
+      the sonorous voice exchanging greetings with the cadets, he was seized by
+      the same rapture that he experienced later on when he met the woman he
+      loved. Indeed, his passionate adoration of the Emperor was even stronger:
+      he wished to sacrifice something&mdash;everything, even himself&mdash;to
+      prove his complete devotion. And the Emperor Nicholas was conscious of
+      evoking this rapture and deliberately aroused it. He played with the
+      cadets, surrounded himself with them, treating them sometimes with
+      childish simplicity, sometimes as a friend, and then again with majestic
+      solemnity. After that affair with the officer, Nicholas Pavlovich said
+      nothing to Kasatsky, but when the latter approached he waved him away
+      theatrically, frowned, shook his finger at him, and afterwards when
+      leaving, said: &lsquo;Remember that I know everything. There are some things I
+      would rather not know, but they remain here,&rsquo; and he pointed to his heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When on leaving College the cadets were received by the Emperor, he did
+      not again refer to Kasatsky&rsquo;s offence, but told them all, as was his
+      custom, that they should serve him and the fatherland loyally, that he
+      would always be their best friend, and that when necessary they might
+      approach him direct. All the cadets were as usual greatly moved, and
+      Kasatsky even shed tears, remembering the past, and vowed that he would
+      serve his beloved Tsar with all his soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Kasatsky took up his commission his mother moved with her daughter
+      first to Moscow and then to their country estate. Kasatsky gave half his
+      property to his sister and kept only enough to maintain himself in the
+      expensive regiment he had joined.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To all appearance he was just an ordinary, brilliant young officer of the
+      Guards making a career for himself; but intense and complex strivings went
+      on within him. From early childhood his efforts had seemed to be very
+      varied, but essentially they were all one and the same. He tried in
+      everything he took up to attain such success and perfection as would evoke
+      praise and surprise. Whether it was his studies or his military exercises,
+      he took them up and worked at them till he was praised and held up as an
+      example to others. Mastering one subject he took up another, and obtained
+      first place in his studies. For example, while still at College he noticed
+      in himself an awkwardness in French conversation, and contrived to master
+      French till he spoke it as well as Russian, and then he took up chess and
+      became an excellent player.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Apart from his main vocation, which was the service of his Tsar and the
+      fatherland, he always set himself some particular aim, and however
+      unimportant it was, devoted himself completely to it and lived for it
+      until it was accomplished. And as soon as it was attained another aim
+      would immediately present itself, replacing its predecessor. This passion
+      for distinguishing himself, or for accomplishing something in order to
+      distinguish himself, filled his life. On taking up his commission he set
+      himself to acquire the utmost perfection in knowledge of the service, and
+      very soon became a model officer, though still with the same fault of
+      ungovernable irascibility, which here in the service again led him to
+      commit actions inimical to his success. Then he took to reading, having
+      once in conversation in society felt himself deficient in general
+      education&mdash;and again achieved his purpose. Then, wishing to secure a
+      brilliant position in high society, he learnt to dance excellently and
+      very soon was invited to all the balls in the best circles, and to some of
+      their evening gatherings. But this did not satisfy him: he was accustomed
+      to being first, and in this society was far from being so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The highest society then consisted, and I think always consist, of four
+      sorts of people: rich people who are received at Court, people not wealthy
+      but born and brought up in Court circles, rich people who ingratiate
+      themselves into the Court set, and people neither rich nor belonging to
+      the Court but who ingratiate themselves into the first and second sets.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kasatsky did not belong to the first two sets, but was readily welcomed in
+      the others. On entering society he determined to have relations with some
+      society lady, and to his own surprise quickly accomplished this purpose.
+      He soon realized, however, that the circles in which he moved were not the
+      highest, and that though he was received in the highest spheres he did not
+      belong to them. They were polite to him, but showed by their whole manner
+      that they had their own set and that he was not of it. And Kasatsky wished
+      to belong to that inner circle. To attain that end it would be necessary
+      to be an aide-de-camp to the Emperor&mdash;which he expected to become&mdash;or
+      to marry into that exclusive set, which he resolved to do. And his choice
+      fell on a beauty belonging to the Court, who not merely belonged to the
+      circle into which he wished to be accepted, but whose friendship was
+      coveted by the very highest people and those most firmly established in
+      that highest circle. This was Countess Korotkova. Kasatsky began to pay
+      court to her, and not merely for the sake of his career. She was extremely
+      attractive and he soon fell in love with her. At first she was noticeably
+      cool towards him, but then suddenly changed and became gracious, and her
+      mother gave him pressing invitations to visit them. Kasatsky proposed and
+      was accepted. He was surprised at the facility with which he attained such
+      happiness. But though he noticed something strange and unusual in the
+      behaviour towards him of both mother and daughter, he was blinded by being
+      so deeply in love, and did not realize what almost the whole town knew&mdash;namely,
+      that his fiancee had been the Emperor Nicholas&rsquo;s mistress the previous
+      year.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Two weeks before the day arranged for the wedding, Kasatsky was at
+      Tsarskoe Selo at his fiancee&rsquo;s country place. It was a hot day in May. He
+      and his betrothed had walked about the garden and were sitting on a bench
+      in a shady linden alley. Mary&rsquo;s white muslin dress suited her particularly
+      well, and she seemed the personification of innocence and love as she sat,
+      now bending her head, now gazing up at the very tall and handsome man who
+      was speaking to her with particular tenderness and self-restraint, as if
+      he feared by word or gesture to offend or sully her angelic purity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kasatsky belonged to those men of the eighteen-forties (they are now no
+      longer to be found) who while deliberately and without any conscientious
+      scruples condoning impurity in themselves, required ideal and angelic
+      purity in their women, regarded all unmarried women of their circle as
+      possessed of such purity, and treated them accordingly. There was much
+      that was false and harmful in this outlook, as concerning the laxity the
+      men permitted themselves, but in regard to the women that old-fashioned
+      view (sharply differing from that held by young people to-day who see in
+      every girl merely a female seeking a mate) was, I think, of value. The
+      girls, perceiving such adoration, endeavoured with more or less success to
+      be goddesses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Such was the view Kasatsky held of women, and that was how he regarded his
+      fiancee. He was particularly in love that day, but did not experience any
+      sensual desire for her. On the contrary he regarded her with tender
+      adoration as something unattainable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He rose to his full height, standing before her with both hands on his
+      sabre.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I have only now realized what happiness a man can experience! And it is
+      you, my darling, who have given me this happiness,&rsquo; he said with a timid
+      smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Endearments had not yet become usual between them, and feeling himself
+      morally inferior he felt terrified at this stage to use them to such an
+      angel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;It is thanks to you that I have come to know myself. I have learnt that I
+      am better than I thought.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I have known that for a long time. That was why I began to love you.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nightingales trilled near by and the fresh leafage rustled, moved by a
+      passing breeze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took her hand and kissed it, and tears came into his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She understood that he was thanking her for having said she loved him. He
+      silently took a few steps up and down, and then approached her again and
+      sat down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;You know... I have to tell you... I was not disinterested when I began to
+      make love to you. I wanted to get into society; but later... how
+      unimportant that became in comparison with you&mdash;when I got to know
+      you. You are not angry with me for that?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not reply but merely touched his hand. He understood that this
+      meant: &lsquo;No, I am not angry.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;You said...&rsquo; He hesitated. It seemed too bold to say. &lsquo;You said that you
+      began to love me. I believe it&mdash;but there is something that troubles
+      you and checks your feeling. What is it?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Yes&mdash;now or never!&rsquo; thought she. &lsquo;He is bound to know of it anyway.
+      But now he will not forsake me. Ah, if he should, it would be terrible!&rsquo; 
+      And she threw a loving glance at his tall, noble, powerful figure. She
+      loved him now more than she had loved the Tsar, and apart from the
+      Imperial dignity would not have preferred the Emperor to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Listen! I cannot deceive you. I have to tell you. You ask what it is? It
+      is that I have loved before.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She again laid her hand on his with an imploring gesture. He was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;You want to know who it was? It was&mdash;the Emperor.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;We all love him. I can imagine you, a schoolgirl at the Institute...&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;No, it was later. I was infatuated, but it passed... I must tell you...&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Well, what of it?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;No, it was not simply&mdash;&rsquo; She covered her face with her hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;What? You gave yourself to him?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;His mistress?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sprang up and stood before her with trembling jaws, pale as death. He
+      now remembered how the Emperor, meeting him on the Nevsky, had amiably
+      congratulated him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;O God, what have I done! Stiva!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Don&rsquo;t touch me! Don&rsquo;t touch me! Oh, how it pains!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned away and went to the house. There he met her mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;What is the matter, Prince? I...&rsquo; She became silent on seeing his face.
+      The blood had suddenly rushed to his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;You knew it, and used me to shield them! If you weren&rsquo;t a woman...!&rsquo; he
+      cried, lifting his enormous fist, and turning aside he ran away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Had his fiancee&rsquo;s lover been a private person he would have killed him,
+      but it was his beloved Tsar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day he applied both for furlough and his discharge, and professing to
+      be ill, so as to see no one, he went away to the country.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He spent the summer at his village arranging his affairs. When summer was
+      over he did not return to Petersburg, but entered a monastery and there
+      became a monk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His mother wrote to try to dissuade him from this decisive step, but he
+      replied that he felt God&rsquo;s call which transcended all other
+      considerations. Only his sister, who was as proud and ambitious as he,
+      understood him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She understood that he had become a monk in order to be above those who
+      considered themselves his superiors. And she understood him correctly. By
+      becoming a monk he showed contempt for all that seemed most important to
+      others and had seemed so to him while he was in the service, and he now
+      ascended a height from which he could look down on those he had formerly
+      envied.... But it was not this alone, as his sister Varvara supposed, that
+      influenced him. There was also in him something else&mdash;a sincere
+      religious feeling which Varvara did not know, which intertwined itself
+      with the feeling of pride and the desire for pre-eminence, and guided him.
+      His disillusionment with Mary, whom he had thought of angelic purity, and
+      his sense of injury, were so strong that they brought him to despair, and
+      the despair led him&mdash;to what? To God, to his childhood&rsquo;s faith which
+      had never been destroyed in him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      II
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Kasatsky entered the monastery on the feast of the Intercession of the
+      Blessed Virgin. The Abbot of that monastery was a gentleman by birth, a
+      learned writer and a starets, that is, he belonged to that succession of
+      monks originating in Walachia who each choose a director and teacher whom
+      they implicitly obey. This Superior had been a disciple of the starets
+      Ambrose, who was a disciple of Makarius, who was a disciple of the starets
+      Leonid, who was a disciple of Paussy Velichkovsky.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To this Abbot Kasatsky submitted himself as to his chosen director. Here
+      in the monastery, besides the feeling of ascendency over others that such
+      a life gave him, he felt much as he had done in the world: he found
+      satisfaction in attaining the greatest possible perfection outwardly as
+      well as inwardly. As in the regiment he had been not merely an
+      irreproachable officer but had even exceeded his duties and widened the
+      borders of perfection, so also as a monk he tried to be perfect, and was
+      always industrious, abstemious, submissive, and meek, as well as pure both
+      in deed and in thought, and obedient. This last quality in particular made
+      life far easier for him. If many of the demands of life in the monastery,
+      which was near the capital and much frequented, did not please him and
+      were temptations to him, they were all nullified by obedience: &lsquo;It is not
+      for me to reason; my business is to do the task set me, whether it be
+      standing beside the relics, singing in the choir, or making up accounts in
+      the monastery guest-house.&rsquo; All possibility of doubt about anything was
+      silenced by obedience to the starets. Had it not been for this, he would
+      have been oppressed by the length and monotony of the church services, the
+      bustle of the many visitors, and the bad qualities of the other monks. As
+      it was, he not only bore it all joyfully but found in it solace and
+      support. &lsquo;I don&rsquo;t know why it is necessary to hear the same prayers
+      several times a day, but I know that it is necessary; and knowing this I
+      find joy in them.&rsquo; His director told him that as material food is
+      necessary for the maintenance of the life of the body, so spiritual food&mdash;the
+      church prayers&mdash;is necessary for the maintenance of the spiritual
+      life. He believed this, and though the church services, for which he had
+      to get up early in the morning, were a difficulty, they certainly calmed
+      him and gave him joy. This was the result of his consciousness of
+      humility, and the certainty that whatever he had to do, being fixed by the
+      starets, was right.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The interest of his life consisted not only in an ever greater and greater
+      subjugation of his will, but in the attainment of all the Christian
+      virtues, which at first seemed to him easily attainable. He had given his
+      whole estate to his sister and did not regret it, he had no personal
+      claims, humility towards his inferiors was not merely easy for him but
+      afforded him pleasure. Even victory over the sins of the flesh, greed and
+      lust, was easily attained. His director had specially warned him against
+      the latter sin, but Kasatsky felt free from it and was glad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One thing only tormented him&mdash;the remembrance of his fiancee; and not
+      merely the remembrance but the vivid image of what might have been.
+      Involuntarily he recalled a lady he knew who had been a favourite of the
+      Emperor&rsquo;s, but had afterwards married and become an admirable wife and
+      mother. The husband had a high position, influence and honour, and a good
+      and penitent wife.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In his better hours Kasatsky was not disturbed by such thoughts, and when
+      he recalled them at such times he was merely glad to feel that the
+      temptation was past. But there were moments when all that made up his
+      present life suddenly grew dim before him, moments when, if he did not
+      cease to believe in the aims he had set himself, he ceased to see them and
+      could evoke no confidence in them but was seized by a remembrance of, and&mdash;terrible
+      to say&mdash;a regret for, the change of life he had made.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The only thing that saved him in that state of mind was obedience and
+      work, and the fact that the whole day was occupied by prayer. He went
+      through the usual forms of prayer, he bowed in prayer, he even prayed more
+      than usual, but it was lip-service only and his soul was not in it. This
+      condition would continue for a day, or sometimes for two days, and would
+      then pass of itself. But those days were dreadful. Kasatsky felt that he
+      was neither in his own hands nor in God&rsquo;s, but was subject to something
+      else. All he could do then was to obey the starets, to restrain himself,
+      to undertake nothing, and simply to wait. In general all this time he
+      lived not by his own will but by that of the starets, and in this
+      obedience he found a special tranquillity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So he lived in his first monastery for seven years. At the end of the
+      third year he received the tonsure and was ordained to the priesthood by
+      the name of Sergius. The profession was an important event in his inner
+      life. He had previously experienced a great consolation and spiritual
+      exaltation when receiving communion, and now when he himself officiated,
+      the performance of the preparation filled him with ecstatic and deep
+      emotion. But subsequently that feeling became more and more deadened, and
+      once when he was officiating in a depressed state of mind he felt that the
+      influence produced on him by the service would not endure. And it did in
+      fact weaken till only the habit remained.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In general in the seventh year of his life in the monastery Sergius grew
+      weary. He had learnt all there was to learn and had attained all there was
+      to attain, there was nothing more to do and his spiritual drowsiness
+      increased. During this time he heard of his mother&rsquo;s death and his sister
+      Varvara&rsquo;s marriage, but both events were matters of indifference to him.
+      His whole attention and his whole interest were concentrated on his inner
+      life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the fourth year of his priesthood, during which the Bishop had been
+      particularly kind to him, the starets told him that he ought not to
+      decline it if he were offered an appointment to higher duties. Then
+      monastic ambition, the very thing he had found so repulsive in other
+      monks, arose within him. He was assigned to a monastery near the
+      metropolis. He wished to refuse but the starets ordered him to accept the
+      appointment. He did so, and took leave of the starets and moved to the
+      other monastery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The exchange into the metropolitan monastery was an important event in
+      Sergius&rsquo;s life. There he encountered many temptations, and his whole
+      will-power was concentrated on meeting them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the first monastery, women had not been a temptation to him, but here
+      that temptation arose with terrible strength and even took definite shape.
+      There was a lady known for her frivolous behaviour who began to seek his
+      favour. She talked to him and asked him to visit her. Sergius sternly
+      declined, but was horrified by the definiteness of his desire. He was so
+      alarmed that he wrote about it to the starets. And in addition, to keep
+      himself in hand, he spoke to a young novice and, conquering his sense of
+      shame, confessed his weakness to him, asking him to keep watch on him and
+      not let him go anywhere except to service and to fulfil his duties.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Besides this, a great pitfall for Sergius lay in the fact of his extreme
+      antipathy to his new Abbot, a cunning worldly man who was making a career
+      for himself in the Church. Struggle with himself as he might, he could not
+      master that feeling. He was submissive to the Abbot, but in the depths of
+      his soul he never ceased to condemn him. And in the second year of his
+      residence at the new monastery that ill-feeling broke out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Vigil service was being performed in the large church on the eve of
+      the feast of the Intercession of the Blessed Virgin, and there were many
+      visitors. The Abbot himself was conducting the service. Father Sergius was
+      standing in his usual place and praying: that is, he was in that condition
+      of struggle which always occupied him during the service, especially in
+      the large church when he was not himself conducting the service. This
+      conflict was occasioned by his irritation at the presence of fine folk,
+      especially ladies. He tried not to see them or to notice all that went on:
+      how a soldier conducted them, pushing the common people aside, how the
+      ladies pointed out the monks to one another&mdash;especially himself and a
+      monk noted for his good looks. He tried as it were to keep his mind in
+      blinkers, to see nothing but the light of the candles on the altar-screen,
+      the icons, and those conducting the service. He tried to hear nothing but
+      the prayers that were being chanted or read, to feel nothing but
+      self-oblivion in consciousness of the fulfilment of duty&mdash;a feeling
+      he always experienced when hearing or reciting in advance the prayers he
+      had so often heard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So he stood, crossing and prostrating himself when necessary, and
+      struggled with himself, now giving way to cold condemnation and now to a
+      consciously evoked obliteration of thought and feeling. Then the
+      sacristan, Father Nicodemus&mdash;also a great stumbling-block to Sergius
+      who involuntarily reproached him for flattering and fawning on the Abbot&mdash;approached
+      him and, bowing low, requested his presence behind the holy gates. Father
+      Sergius straightened his mantle, put on his biretta, and went
+      circumspectly through the crowd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Lise, regarde a droite, c&rsquo;est lui!&rsquo; he heard a woman&rsquo;s voice say.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Ou, ou? Il n&rsquo;est pas tellement beau.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He knew that they were speaking of him. He heard them and, as always at
+      moments of temptation, he repeated the words, &lsquo;Lead us not into
+      temptation,&rsquo; and bowing his head and lowering his eyes went past the ambo
+      and in by the north door, avoiding the canons in their cassocks who were
+      just then passing the altar-screen. On entering the sanctuary he bowed,
+      crossing himself as usual and bending double before the icons. Then,
+      raising his head but without turning, he glanced out of the corner of his
+      eye at the Abbot, whom he saw standing beside another glittering figure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Abbot was standing by the wall in his vestments. Having freed his
+      short plump hands from beneath his chasuble he had folded them over his
+      fat body and protruding stomach, and fingering the cords of his vestments
+      was smilingly saying something to a military man in the uniform of a
+      general of the Imperial suite, with its insignia and shoulder-knots which
+      Father Sergius&rsquo;s experienced eye at once recognized. This general had been
+      the commander of the regiment in which Sergius had served. He now
+      evidently occupied an important position, and Father Sergius at once
+      noticed that the Abbot was aware of this and that his red face and bald
+      head beamed with satisfaction and pleasure. This vexed and disgusted
+      Father Sergius, the more so when he heard that the Abbot had only sent for
+      him to satisfy the general&rsquo;s curiosity to see a man who had formerly
+      served with him, as he expressed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Very pleased to see you in your angelic guise,&rsquo; said the general, holding
+      out his hand. &lsquo;I hope you have not forgotten an old comrade.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The whole thing&mdash;the Abbot&rsquo;s red, smiling face amid its fringe of
+      grey, the general&rsquo;s words, his well-cared-for face with its self-satisfied
+      smile and the smell of wine from his breath and of cigars from his
+      whiskers&mdash;revolted Father Sergius. He bowed again to the Abbot and
+      said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Your reverence deigned to send for me?&rsquo;&mdash;and stopped, the whole
+      expression of his face and eyes asking why.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Yes, to meet the General,&rsquo; replied the Abbot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Your reverence, I left the world to save myself from temptation,&rsquo; said
+      Father Sergius, turning pale and with quivering lips. &lsquo;Why do you expose
+      me to it during prayers and in God&rsquo;s house?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;You may go! Go!&rsquo; said the Abbot, flaring up and frowning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next day Father Sergius asked pardon of the Abbot and of the brethren for
+      his pride, but at the same time, after a night spent in prayer, he decided
+      that he must leave this monastery, and he wrote to the starets begging
+      permission to return to him. He wrote that he felt his weakness and
+      incapacity to struggle against temptation without his help and penitently
+      confessed his sin of pride. By return of post came a letter from the
+      starets, who wrote that Sergius&rsquo;s pride was the cause of all that had
+      happened. The old man pointed out that his fits of anger were due to the
+      fact that in refusing all clerical honours he humiliated himself not for
+      the sake of God but for the sake of his pride. &lsquo;There now, am I not a
+      splendid man not to want anything?&rsquo; That was why he could not tolerate the
+      Abbot&rsquo;s action. &lsquo;I have renounced everything for the glory of God, and
+      here I am exhibited like a wild beast!&rsquo; &lsquo;Had you renounced vanity for
+      God&rsquo;s sake you would have borne it. Worldly pride is not yet dead in you.
+      I have thought about you, Sergius my son, and prayed also, and this is
+      what God has suggested to me. At the Tambov hermitage the anchorite
+      Hilary, a man of saintly life, has died. He had lived there eighteen
+      years. The Tambov Abbot is asking whether there is not a brother who would
+      take his place. And here comes your letter. Go to Father Paissy of the
+      Tambov Monastery. I will write to him about you, and you must ask for
+      Hilary&rsquo;s cell. Not that you can replace Hilary, but you need solitude to
+      quell your pride. May God bless you!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sergius obeyed the starets, showed his letter to the Abbot, and having
+      obtained his permission, gave up his cell, handed all his possessions over
+      to the monastery, and set out for the Tambov hermitage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There the Abbot, an excellent manager of merchant origin, received Sergius
+      simply and quietly and placed him in Hilary&rsquo;s cell, at first assigning to
+      him a lay brother but afterwards leaving him alone, at Sergius&rsquo;s own
+      request. The cell was a dual cave, dug into the hillside, and in it Hilary
+      had been buried. In the back part was Hilary&rsquo;s grave, while in the front
+      was a niche for sleeping, with a straw mattress, a small table, and a
+      shelf with icons and books. Outside the outer door, which fastened with a
+      hook, was another shelf on which, once a day, a monk placed food from the
+      monastery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so Sergius became a hermit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      III
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      At Carnival time, in the sixth year of Sergius&rsquo;s life at the hermitage, a
+      merry company of rich people, men and women from a neighbouring town, made
+      up a troyka-party, after a meal of carnival-pancakes and wine. The company
+      consisted of two lawyers, a wealthy landowner, an officer, and four
+      ladies. One lady was the officer&rsquo;s wife, another the wife of the
+      landowner, the third his sister&mdash;a young girl&mdash;and the fourth a
+      divorcee, beautiful, rich, and eccentric, who amazed and shocked the town
+      by her escapades.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The weather was excellent and the snow-covered road smooth as a floor.
+      They drove some seven miles out of town, and then stopped and consulted as
+      to whether they should turn back or drive farther.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;But where does this road lead to?&rsquo; asked Makovkina, the beautiful
+      divorcee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;To Tambov, eight miles from here,&rsquo; replied one of the lawyers, who was
+      having a flirtation with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;And then where?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Then on to L&mdash;&mdash;, past the Monastery.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Where that Father Sergius lives?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Yes.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Kasatsky, the handsome hermit?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Yes.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Mesdames et messieurs, let us drive on and see Kasatsky! We can stop at
+      Tambov and have something to eat.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;But we shouldn&rsquo;t get home to-night!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Never mind, we will stay at Kasatsky&rsquo;s.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Well, there is a very good hostelry at the Monastery. I stayed there when
+      I was defending Makhin.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;No, I shall spend the night at Kasatsky&rsquo;s!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Impossible! Even your omnipotence could not accomplish that!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Impossible? Will you bet?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;All right! If you spend the night with him, the stake shall be whatever
+      you like.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;A DISCRETION!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;But on your side too!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Yes, of course. Let us drive on.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vodka was handed to the drivers, and the party got out a box of pies,
+      wine, and sweets for themselves. The ladies wrapped up in their white
+      dogskins. The drivers disputed as to whose troyka should go ahead, and the
+      youngest, seating himself sideways with a dashing air, swung his long
+      knout and shouted to the horses. The troyka-bells tinkled and the
+      sledge-runners squeaked over the snow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sledge swayed hardly at all. The shaft-horse, with his tightly bound
+      tail under his decorated breechband, galloped smoothly and briskly; the
+      smooth road seemed to run rapidly backwards, while the driver dashingly
+      shook the reins. One of the lawyers and the officer sitting opposite
+      talked nonsense to Makovkina&rsquo;s neighbour, but Makovkina herself sat
+      motionless and in thought, tightly wrapped in her fur. &lsquo;Always the same
+      and always nasty! The same red shiny faces smelling of wine and cigars!
+      The same talk, the same thoughts, and always about the same things! And
+      they are all satisfied and confident that it should be so, and will go on
+      living like that till they die. But I can&rsquo;t. It bores me. I want something
+      that would upset it all and turn it upside down. Suppose it happened to us
+      as to those people&mdash;at Saratov was it?&mdash;who kept on driving and
+      froze to death.... What would our people do? How would they behave?
+      Basely, for certain. Each for himself. And I too should act badly. But I
+      at any rate have beauty. They all know it. And how about that monk? Is it
+      possible that he has become indifferent to it? No! That is the one thing
+      they all care for&mdash;like that cadet last autumn. What a fool he was!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Ivan Nikolaevich!&rsquo; she said aloud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;What are your commands?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;How old is he?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Who?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Kasatsky.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Over forty, I should think.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;And does he receive all visitors?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Yes, everybody, but not always.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Cover up my feet. Not like that&mdash;how clumsy you are! No! More, more&mdash;like
+      that! But you need not squeeze them!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So they came to the forest where the cell was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Makovkina got out of the sledge, and told them to drive on. They tried to
+      dissuade her, but she grew irritable and ordered them to go on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the sledges had gone she went up the path in her white dogskin coat.
+      The lawyer got out and stopped to watch her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Father Sergius&rsquo;s sixth year as a recluse, and he was now
+      forty-nine. His life in solitude was hard&mdash;not on account of the
+      fasts and the prayers (they were no hardship to him) but on account of an
+      inner conflict he had not at all anticipated. The sources of that conflict
+      were two: doubts, and the lust of the flesh. And these two enemies always
+      appeared together. It seemed to him that they were two foes, but in
+      reality they were one and the same. As soon as doubt was gone so was the
+      lustful desire. But thinking them to be two different fiends he fought
+      them separately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;O my God, my God!&rsquo; thought he. &lsquo;Why dost thou not grant me faith? There
+      is lust, of course: even the saints had to fight that&mdash;Saint Anthony
+      and others. But they had faith, while I have moments, hours, and days,
+      when it is absent. Why does the whole world, with all its delights, exist
+      if it is sinful and must be renounced? Why hast Thou created this
+      temptation? Temptation? Is it not rather a temptation that I wish to
+      abandon all the joys of earth and prepare something for myself there where
+      perhaps there is nothing?&rsquo; And he became horrified and filled with disgust
+      at himself. &lsquo;Vile creature! And it is you who wish to become a saint!&rsquo; he
+      upbraided himself, and he began to pray. But as soon as he started to pray
+      he saw himself vividly as he had been at the Monastery, in a majestic post
+      in biretta and mantle, and he shook his head. &lsquo;No, that is not right. It
+      is deception. I may deceive others, but not myself or God. I am not a
+      majestic man, but a pitiable and ridiculous one!&rsquo; And he threw back the
+      folds of his cassock and smiled as he looked at his thin legs in their
+      underclothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he dropped the folds of the cassock again and began reading the
+      prayers, making the sign of the cross and prostrating himself. &lsquo;Can it be
+      that this couch will be my bier?&rsquo; he read. And it seemed as if a devil
+      whispered to him: &lsquo;A solitary couch is itself a bier. Falsehood!&rsquo; And in
+      imagination he saw the shoulders of a widow with whom he had lived. He
+      shook himself, and went on reading. Having read the precepts he took up
+      the Gospels, opened the book, and happened on a passage he often repeated
+      and knew by heart: &lsquo;Lord, I believe. Help thou my unbelief!&rsquo;&mdash;and he
+      put away all the doubts that had arisen. As one replaces an object of
+      insecure equilibrium, so he carefully replaced his belief on its shaky
+      pedestal and carefully stepped back from it so as not to shake or upset
+      it. The blinkers were adjusted again and he felt tranquillized, and
+      repeating his childhood&rsquo;s prayer: &lsquo;Lord, receive me, receive me!&rsquo; he felt
+      not merely at ease, but thrilled and joyful. He crossed himself and lay
+      down on the bedding on his narrow bench, tucking his summer cassock under
+      his head. He fell asleep at once, and in his light slumber he seemed to
+      hear the tinkling of sledge bells. He did not know whether he was dreaming
+      or awake, but a knock at the door aroused him. He sat up, distrusting his
+      senses, but the knock was repeated. Yes, it was a knock close at hand, at
+      his door, and with it the sound of a woman&rsquo;s voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;My God! Can it be true, as I have read in the Lives of the Saints, that
+      the devil takes on the form of a woman? Yes&mdash;it is a woman&rsquo;s voice.
+      And a tender, timid, pleasant voice. Phui!&rsquo; And he spat to exorcise the
+      devil. &lsquo;No, it was only my imagination,&rsquo; he assured himself, and he went
+      to the corner where his lectern stood, falling on his knees in the regular
+      and habitual manner which of itself gave him consolation and satisfaction.
+      He sank down, his hair hanging over his face, and pressed his head,
+      already going bald in front, to the cold damp strip of drugget on the
+      draughty floor. He read the psalm old Father Pimon had told him warded off
+      temptation. He easily raised his light and emaciated body on his strong
+      sinewy legs and tried to continue saying his prayers, but instead of doing
+      so he involuntarily strained his hearing. He wished to hear more. All was
+      quiet. From the corner of the roof regular drops continued to fall into
+      the tub below. Outside was a mist and fog eating into the snow that lay on
+      the ground. It was still, very still. And suddenly there was a rustling at
+      the window and a voice&mdash;that same tender, timid voice, which could
+      only belong to an attractive woman&mdash;said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Let me in, for Christ&rsquo;s sake!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed as though his blood had all rushed to his heart and settled
+      there. He could hardly breathe. &lsquo;Let God arise and let his enemies be
+      scattered...&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;But I am not a devil!&rsquo; It was obvious that the lips that uttered this
+      were smiling. &lsquo;I am not a devil, but only a sinful woman who has lost her
+      way, not figuratively but literally!&rsquo; She laughed. &lsquo;I am frozen and beg
+      for shelter.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He pressed his face to the window, but the little icon-lamp was reflected
+      by it and shone on the whole pane. He put his hands to both sides of his
+      face and peered between them. Fog, mist, a tree, and&mdash;just opposite
+      him&mdash;she herself. Yes, there, a few inches from him, was the sweet,
+      kindly frightened face of a woman in a cap and a coat of long white fur,
+      leaning towards him. Their eyes met with instant recognition: not that
+      they had ever known one another, they had never met before, but by the
+      look they exchanged they&mdash;and he particularly&mdash;felt that they
+      knew and understood one another. After that glance to imagine her to be a
+      devil and not a simple, kindly, sweet, timid woman, was impossible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Who are you? Why have you come?&rsquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Do please open the door!&rsquo; she replied, with capricious authority. &lsquo;I am
+      frozen. I tell you I have lost my way.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;But I am a monk&mdash;a hermit.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Oh, do please open the door&mdash;or do you wish me to freeze under your
+      window while you say your prayers?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;But how have you...&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I shan&rsquo;t eat you. For God&rsquo;s sake let me in! I am quite frozen.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She really did feel afraid, and said this in an almost tearful voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stepped back from the window and looked at an icon of the Saviour in
+      His crown of thorns. &lsquo;Lord, help me! Lord, help me!&rsquo; he exclaimed,
+      crossing himself and bowing low. Then he went to the door, and opening it
+      into the tiny porch, felt for the hook that fastened the outer door and
+      began to lift it. He heard steps outside. She was coming from the window
+      to the door. &lsquo;Ah!&rsquo; she suddenly exclaimed, and he understood that she had
+      stepped into the puddle that the dripping from the roof had formed at the
+      threshold. His hands trembled, and he could not raise the hook of the
+      tightly closed door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Oh, what are you doing? Let me in! I am all wet. I am frozen! You are
+      thinking about saving your soul and are letting me freeze to death...&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He jerked the door towards him, raised the hook, and without considering
+      what he was doing, pushed it open with such force that it struck her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Oh&mdash;PARDON!&rsquo; he suddenly exclaimed, reverting completely to his old
+      manner with ladies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She smiled on hearing that PARDON. &lsquo;He is not quite so terrible, after
+      all,&rsquo; she thought. &lsquo;It&rsquo;s all right. It is you who must pardon me,&rsquo; she
+      said, stepping past him. &lsquo;I should never have ventured, but such an
+      extraordinary circumstance...&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;If you please!&rsquo; he uttered, and stood aside to let her pass him. A strong
+      smell of fine scent, which he had long not encountered, struck him. She
+      went through the little porch into the cell where he lived. He closed the
+      outer door without fastening the hook, and stepped in after her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner! Lord, have
+      mercy on me a sinner!&rsquo; he prayed unceasingly, not merely to himself but
+      involuntarily moving his lips. &lsquo;If you please!&rsquo; he said to her again. She
+      stood in the middle of the room, moisture dripping from her to the floor
+      as she looked him over. Her eyes were laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Forgive me for having disturbed your solitude. But you see what a
+      position I am in. It all came about from our starting from town for a
+      sledge-drive, and my making a bet that I would walk back by myself from
+      the Vorobevka to the town. But then I lost my way, and if I had not
+      happened to come upon your cell...&rsquo; She began lying, but his face confused
+      her so that she could not continue, but became silent. She had not
+      expected him to be at all such as he was. He was not as handsome as she
+      had imagined, but was nevertheless beautiful in her eyes: his greyish hair
+      and beard, slightly curling, his fine, regular nose, and his eyes like
+      glowing coal when he looked at her, made a strong impression on her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He saw that she was lying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Yes... so,&rsquo; said he, looking at her and again lowering his eyes. &lsquo;I will
+      go in there, and this place is at your disposal.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And taking down the little lamp, he lit a candle, and bowing low to her
+      went into the small cell beyond the partition, and she heard him begin to
+      move something about there. &lsquo;Probably he is barricading himself in from
+      me!&rsquo; she thought with a smile, and throwing off her white dogskin cloak
+      she tried to take off her cap, which had become entangled in her hair and
+      in the woven kerchief she was wearing under it. She had not got at all wet
+      when standing under the window, and had said so only as a pretext to get
+      him to let her in. But she really had stepped into the puddle at the door,
+      and her left foot was wet up to the ankle and her overshoe full of water.
+      She sat down on his bed&mdash;a bench only covered by a bit of carpet&mdash;and
+      began to take off her boots. The little cell seemed to her charming. The
+      narrow little room, some seven feet by nine, was as clean as glass. There
+      was nothing in it but the bench on which she was sitting, the book-shelf
+      above it, and a lectern in the corner. A sheepskin coat and a cassock hung
+      on nails by the door. Above the lectern was the little lamp and an icon of
+      Christ in His crown of thorns. The room smelt strangely of perspiration
+      and of earth. It all pleased her&mdash;even that smell. Her wet feet,
+      especially one of them, were uncomfortable, and she quickly began to take
+      off her boots and stockings without ceasing to smile, pleased not so much
+      at having achieved her object as because she perceived that she had
+      abashed that charming, strange, striking, and attractive man. &lsquo;He did not
+      respond, but what of that?&rsquo; she said to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Father Sergius! Father Sergius! Or how does one call you?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;What do you want?&rsquo; replied a quiet voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Please forgive me for disturbing your solitude, but really I could not
+      help it. I should simply have fallen ill. And I don&rsquo;t know that I shan&rsquo;t
+      now. I am all wet and my feet are like ice.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Pardon me,&rsquo; replied the quiet voice. &lsquo;I cannot be of any assistance to
+      you.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I would not have disturbed you if I could have helped it. I am only here
+      till daybreak.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not reply and she heard him muttering something, probably his
+      prayers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;You will not be coming in here?&rsquo; she asked, smiling. &lsquo;For I must undress
+      to dry myself.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not reply, but continued to read his prayers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Yes, that is a man!&rsquo; thought she, getting her dripping boot off with
+      difficulty. She tugged at it, but could not get it off. The absurdity of
+      it struck her and she began to laugh almost inaudibly. But knowing that he
+      would hear her laughter and would be moved by it just as she wished him to
+      be, she laughed louder, and her laughter&mdash;gay, natural, and kindly&mdash;really
+      acted on him just in the way she wished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Yes, I could love a man like that&mdash;such eyes and such a simple noble
+      face, and passionate too despite all the prayers he mutters!&rsquo; thought she.
+      &lsquo;You can&rsquo;t deceive a woman in these things. As soon as he put his face to
+      the window and saw me, he understood and knew. The glimmer of it was in
+      his eyes and remained there. He began to love me and desired me. Yes&mdash;desired!&rsquo; 
+      said she, getting her overshoe and her boot off at last and starting to
+      take off her stockings. To remove those long stockings fastened with
+      elastic it was necessary to raise her skirts. She felt embarrassed and
+      said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Don&rsquo;t come in!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But there was no reply from the other side of the wall. The steady
+      muttering continued and also a sound of moving.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;He is prostrating himself to the ground, no doubt,&rsquo; thought she. &lsquo;But he
+      won&rsquo;t bow himself out of it. He is thinking of me just as I am thinking of
+      him. He is thinking of these feet of mine with the same feeling that I
+      have!&rsquo; And she pulled off her wet stockings and put her feet up on the
+      bench, pressing them under her. She sat a while like that with her arms
+      round her knees and looking pensively before her. &lsquo;But it is a desert,
+      here in this silence. No one would ever know....&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She rose, took her stockings over to the stove, and hung them on the
+      damper. It was a queer damper, and she turned it about, and then, stepping
+      lightly on her bare feet, returned to the bench and sat down there again
+      with her feet up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was complete silence on the other side of the partition. She looked
+      at the tiny watch that hung round her neck. It was two o&rsquo;clock. &lsquo;Our party
+      should return about three!&rsquo; She had not more than an hour before her.
+      &lsquo;Well, am I to sit like this all alone? What nonsense! I don&rsquo;t want to. I
+      will call him at once.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Father Sergius, Father Sergius! Sergey Dmitrich! Prince Kasatsky!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Beyond the partition all was silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Listen! This is cruel. I would not call you if it were not necessary. I
+      am ill. I don&rsquo;t know what is the matter with me!&rsquo; she exclaimed in a tone
+      of suffering. &lsquo;Oh! Oh!&rsquo; she groaned, falling back on the bench. And
+      strange to say she really felt that her strength was failing, that she was
+      becoming faint, that everything in her ached, and that she was shivering
+      with fever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Listen! Help me! I don&rsquo;t know what is the matter with me. Oh! Oh!&rsquo; She
+      unfastened her dress, exposing her breast, and lifted her arms, bare to
+      the elbow. &lsquo;Oh! Oh!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this time he stood on the other side of the partition and prayed.
+      Having finished all the evening prayers, he now stood motionless, his eyes
+      looking at the end of his nose, and mentally repeated with all his soul:
+      &lsquo;Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon me!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he had heard everything. He had heard how the silk rustled when she
+      took off her dress, how she stepped with bare feet on the floor, and had
+      heard how she rubbed her feet with her hand. He felt his own weakness, and
+      that he might be lost at any moment. That was why he prayed unceasingly.
+      He felt rather as the hero in the fairy-tale must have felt when he had to
+      go on and on without looking round. So Sergius heard and felt that danger
+      and destruction were there, hovering above and around him, and that he
+      could only save himself by not looking in that direction for an instant.
+      But suddenly the desire to look seized him. At the same instant she said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;This is inhuman. I may die....&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Yes, I will go to her, but like the Saint who laid one hand on the
+      adulteress and thrust his other into the brazier. But there is no brazier
+      here.&rsquo; He looked round. The lamp! He put his finger over the flame and
+      frowned, preparing himself to suffer. And for a rather long time, as it
+      seemed to him, there was no sensation, but suddenly&mdash;he had not yet
+      decided whether it was painful enough&mdash;he writhed all over, jerked
+      his hand away, and waved it in the air. &lsquo;No, I can&rsquo;t stand that!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;For God&rsquo;s sake come to me! I am dying! Oh!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Well&mdash;shall I perish? No, not so!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I will come to you directly,&rsquo; he said, and having opened his door, he
+      went without looking at her through the cell into the porch where he used
+      to chop wood. There he felt for the block and for an axe which leant
+      against the wall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Immediately!&rsquo; he said, and taking up the axe with his right hand he laid
+      the forefinger of his left hand on the block, swung the axe, and struck
+      with it below the second joint. The finger flew off more lightly than a
+      stick of similar thickness, and bounding up, turned over on the edge of
+      the block and then fell to the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He heard it fall before he felt any pain, but before he had time to be
+      surprised he felt a burning pain and the warmth of flowing blood. He
+      hastily wrapped the stump in the skirt of his cassock, and pressing it to
+      his hip went back into the room, and standing in front of the woman,
+      lowered his eyes and asked in a low voice: &lsquo;What do you want?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at his pale face and his quivering left cheek, and suddenly
+      felt ashamed. She jumped up, seized her fur cloak, and throwing it round
+      her shoulders, wrapped herself up in it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I was in pain... I have caught cold... I... Father Sergius... I...&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He let his eyes, shining with a quiet light of joy, rest upon her, and
+      said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Dear sister, why did you wish to ruin your immortal soul? Temptations
+      must come into the world, but woe to him by whom temptation comes. Pray
+      that God may forgive us!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She listened and looked at him. Suddenly she heard the sound of something
+      dripping. She looked down and saw that blood was flowing from his hand and
+      down his cassock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;What have you done to your hand?&rsquo; She remembered the sound she had heard,
+      and seizing the little lamp ran out into the porch. There on the floor she
+      saw the bloody finger. She returned with her face paler than his and was
+      about to speak to him, but he silently passed into the back cell and
+      fastened the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Forgive me!&rsquo; she said. &lsquo;How can I atone for my sin?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Go away.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Let me tie up your hand.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Go away from here.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She dressed hurriedly and silently, and when ready sat waiting in her
+      furs. The sledge-bells were heard outside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Father Sergius, forgive me!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Go away. God will forgive.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Father Sergius! I will change my life. Do not forsake me!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Go away.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Forgive me&mdash;and give me your blessing!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost!&rsquo;&mdash;she
+      heard his voice from behind the partition. &lsquo;Go!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She burst into sobs and left the cell. The lawyer came forward to meet
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Well, I see I have lost the bet. It can&rsquo;t be helped. Where will you sit?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;It is all the same to me.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She took a seat in the sledge, and did not utter a word all the way home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A year later she entered a convent as a novice, and lived a strict life
+      under the direction of the hermit Arseny, who wrote letters to her at long
+      intervals.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      IV
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      Father Sergius lived as a recluse for another seven years.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      At first he accepted much of what people brought him&mdash;tea, sugar,
+      white bread, milk, clothing, and fire-wood. But as time went on he led a
+      more and more austere life, refusing everything superfluous, and finally
+      he accepted nothing but rye-bread once a week. Everything else that was
+      brought to him he gave to the poor who came to him. He spent his entire
+      time in his cell, in prayer or in conversation with callers, who became
+      more and more numerous as time went on. Only three times a year did he go
+      out to church, and when necessary he went out to fetch water and wood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The episode with Makovkina had occurred after five years of his hermit
+      life. That occurrence soon became generally known&mdash;her nocturnal
+      visit, the change she underwent, and her entry into a convent. From that
+      time Father Sergius&rsquo;s fame increased. More and more visitors came to see
+      him, other monks settled down near his cell, and a church was erected
+      there and also a hostelry. His fame, as usual exaggerating his feats,
+      spread ever more and more widely. People began to come to him from a
+      distance, and began bringing invalids to him whom they declared he cured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His first cure occurred in the eighth year of his life as a hermit. It was
+      the healing of a fourteen-year-old boy, whose mother brought him to Father
+      Sergius insisting that he should lay his hand on the child&rsquo;s head. It had
+      never occurred to Father Sergius that he could cure the sick. He would
+      have regarded such a thought as a great sin of pride; but the mother who
+      brought the boy implored him insistently, falling at his feet and saying:
+      &lsquo;Why do you, who heal others, refuse to help my son?&rsquo; She besought him in
+      Christ&rsquo;s name. When Father Sergius assured her that only God could heal
+      the sick, she replied that she only wanted him to lay his hands on the boy
+      and pray for him. Father Sergius refused and returned to his cell. But
+      next day (it was in autumn and the nights were already cold) on going out
+      for water he saw the same mother with her son, a pale boy of fourteen, and
+      was met by the same petition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He remembered the parable of the unjust judge, and though he had
+      previously felt sure that he ought to refuse, he now began to hesitate
+      and, having hesitated, took to prayer and prayed until a decision formed
+      itself in his soul. This decision was, that he ought to accede to the
+      woman&rsquo;s request and that her faith might save her son. As for himself, he
+      would in this case be but an insignificant instrument chosen by God.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And going out to the mother he did what she asked&mdash;laid his hand on
+      the boy&rsquo;s head and prayed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The mother left with her son, and a month later the boy recovered, and the
+      fame of the holy healing power of the starets Sergius (as they now called
+      him) spread throughout the whole district. After that, not a week passed
+      without sick people coming, riding or on foot, to Father Sergius; and
+      having acceded to one petition he could not refuse others, and he laid his
+      hands on many and prayed. Many recovered, and his fame spread more and
+      more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So seven years passed in the Monastery and thirteen in his hermit&rsquo;s cell.
+      He now had the appearance of an old man: his beard was long and grey, but
+      his hair, though thin, was still black and curly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      V
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      For some weeks Father Sergius had been living with one persistent thought:
+      whether he was right in accepting the position in which he had not so much
+      placed himself as been placed by the Archimandrite and the Abbot. That
+      position had begun after the recovery of the fourteen-year-old boy. From
+      that time, with each month, week, and day that passed, Sergius felt his
+      own inner life wasting away and being replaced by external life. It was as
+      if he had been turned inside out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sergius saw that he was a means of attracting visitors and contributions
+      to the monastery, and that therefore the authorities arranged matters in
+      such a way as to make as much use of him as possible. For instance, they
+      rendered it impossible for him to do any manual work. He was supplied with
+      everything he could want, and they only demanded of him that he should not
+      refuse his blessing to those who came to seek it. For his convenience they
+      appointed days when he would receive. They arranged a reception-room for
+      men, and a place was railed in so that he should not be pushed over by the
+      crowds of women visitors, and so that he could conveniently bless those
+      who came.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They told him that people needed him, and that fulfilling Christ&rsquo;s law of
+      love he could not refuse their demand to see him, and that to avoid them
+      would be cruel. He could not but agree with this, but the more he gave
+      himself up to such a life the more he felt that what was internal became
+      external, and that the fount of living water within him dried up, and that
+      what he did now was done more and more for men and less and less for God.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Whether he admonished people, or simply blessed them, or prayed for the
+      sick, or advised people about their lives, or listened to expressions of
+      gratitude from those he had helped by precepts, or alms, or healing (as
+      they assured him)&mdash;he could not help being pleased at it, and could
+      not be indifferent to the results of his activity and to the influence he
+      exerted. He thought himself a shining light, and the more he felt this the
+      more was he conscious of a weakening, a dying down of the divine light of
+      truth that shone within him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;In how far is what I do for God and in how far is it for men?&rsquo; That was
+      the question that insistently tormented him and to which he was not so
+      much unable to give himself an answer as unable to face the answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the depth of his soul he felt that the devil had substituted an
+      activity for men in place of his former activity for God. He felt this
+      because, just as it had formerly been hard for him to be torn from his
+      solitude so now that solitude itself was hard for him. He was oppressed
+      and wearied by visitors, but at the bottom of his heart he was glad of
+      their presence and glad of the praise they heaped upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a time when he decided to go away and hide. He even planned all
+      that was necessary for that purpose. He prepared for himself a peasant&rsquo;s
+      shirt, trousers, coat, and cap. He explained that he wanted these to give
+      to those who asked. And he kept these clothes in his cell, planning how he
+      would put them on, cut his hair short, and go away. First he would go some
+      three hundred versts by train, then he would leave the train and walk from
+      village to village. He asked an old man who had been a soldier how he
+      tramped: what people gave him, and what shelter they allowed him. The
+      soldier told him where people were most charitable, and where they would
+      take a wanderer in for the night, and Father Sergius intended to avail
+      himself of this information. He even put on those clothes one night in his
+      desire to go, but he could not decide what was best&mdash;to remain or to
+      escape. At first he was in doubt, but afterwards this indecision passed.
+      He submitted to custom and yielded to the devil, and only the peasant garb
+      reminded him of the thought and feeling he had had.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Every day more and more people flocked to him and less and less time was
+      left him for prayer and for renewing his spiritual strength. Sometimes in
+      lucid moments he thought he was like a place where there had once been a
+      spring. &lsquo;There used to be a feeble spring of living water which flowed
+      quietly from me and through me. That was true life, the time when she
+      tempted me!&rsquo; (He always thought with ecstasy of that night and of her who
+      was now Mother Agnes.) She had tasted of that pure water, but since then
+      there had not been time for it to collect before thirsty people came
+      crowding in and pushing one another aside. And they had trampled
+      everything down and nothing was left but mud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So he thought in rare moments of lucidity, but his usual state of mind was
+      one of weariness and a tender pity for himself because of that weariness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was in spring, on the eve of the mid-Pentecostal feast. Father Sergius
+      was officiating at the Vigil Service in his hermitage church, where the
+      congregation was as large as the little church could hold&mdash;about
+      twenty people. They were all well-to-do proprietors or merchants. Father
+      Sergius admitted anyone, but a selection was made by the monk in
+      attendance and by an assistant who was sent to the hermitage every day
+      from the monastery. A crowd of some eighty people&mdash;pilgrims and
+      peasants, and especially peasant-women&mdash;stood outside waiting for
+      Father Sergius to come out and bless them. Meanwhile he conducted the
+      service, but at the point at which he went out to the tomb of his
+      predecessor, he staggered and would have fallen had he not been caught by
+      a merchant standing behind him and by the monk acting as deacon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;What is the matter, Father Sergius? Dear man! O Lord!&rsquo; exclaimed the
+      women. &lsquo;He is as white as a sheet!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Father Sergius recovered immediately, and though very pale, he waved
+      the merchant and the deacon aside and continued to chant the service.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Father Seraphim, the deacon, the acolytes, and Sofya Ivanovna, a lady who
+      always lived near the hermitage and tended Father Sergius, begged him to
+      bring the service to an end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;No, there&rsquo;s nothing the matter,&rsquo; said Father Sergius, slightly smiling
+      from beneath his moustache and continuing the service. &lsquo;Yes, that is the
+      way the Saints behave!&rsquo; thought he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;A holy man&mdash;an angel of God!&rsquo; he heard just then the voice of Sofya
+      Ivanovna behind him, and also of the merchant who had supported him. He
+      did not heed their entreaties, but went on with the service. Again
+      crowding together they all made their way by the narrow passages back into
+      the little church, and there, though abbreviating it slightly, Father
+      Sergius completed vespers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Immediately after the service Father Sergius, having pronounced the
+      benediction on those present, went over to the bench under the elm tree at
+      the entrance to the cave. He wished to rest and breathe the fresh air&mdash;he
+      felt in need of it. But as soon as he left the church the crowd of people
+      rushed to him soliciting his blessing, his advice, and his help. There
+      were pilgrims who constantly tramped from one holy place to another and
+      from one starets to another, and were always entranced by every shrine and
+      every starets. Father Sergius knew this common, cold, conventional, and
+      most irreligious type. There were pilgrims, for the most part discharged
+      soldiers, unaccustomed to a settled life, poverty-stricken, and many of
+      them drunken old men, who tramped from monastery to monastery merely to be
+      fed. And there were rough peasants and peasant-women who had come with
+      their selfish requirements, seeking cures or to have doubts about quite
+      practical affairs solved for them: about marrying off a daughter, or
+      hiring a shop, or buying a bit of land, or how to atone for having
+      overlaid a child or having an illegitimate one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this was an old story and not in the least interesting to him. He knew
+      he would hear nothing new from these folk, that they would arouse no
+      religious emotion in him; but he liked to see the crowd to which his
+      blessing and advice was necessary and precious, so while that crowd
+      oppressed him it also pleased him. Father Seraphim began to drive them
+      away, saying that Father Sergius was tired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Father Sergius, remembering the words of the Gospel: &lsquo;Forbid them&rsquo; 
+      (children) &lsquo;not to come unto me,&rsquo; and feeling tenderly towards himself at
+      this recollection, said they should be allowed to approach.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He rose, went to the railing beyond which the crowd had gathered, and
+      began blessing them and answering their questions, but in a voice so weak
+      that he was touched with pity for himself. Yet despite his wish to receive
+      them all he could not do it. Things again grew dark before his eyes, and
+      he staggered and grasped the railings. He felt a rush of blood to his head
+      and first went pale and then suddenly flushed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I must leave the rest till to-morrow. I cannot do more to-day,&rsquo; and,
+      pronouncing a general benediction, he returned to the bench. The merchant
+      again supported him, and leading him by the arm helped him to be seated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Father!&rsquo; came voices from the crowd. &lsquo;Dear Father! Do not forsake us.
+      Without you we are lost!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The merchant, having seated Father Sergius on the bench under the elm,
+      took on himself police duties and drove the people off very resolutely. It
+      is true that he spoke in a low voice so that Father Sergius might not hear
+      him, but his words were incisive and angry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Be off, be off! He has blessed you, and what more do you want? Get along
+      with you, or I&rsquo;ll wring your necks! Move on there! Get along, you old
+      woman with your dirty leg-bands! Go, go! Where are you shoving to? You&rsquo;ve
+      been told that it is finished. To-morrow will be as God wills, but for
+      to-day he has finished!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Father! Only let my eyes have a glimpse of his dear face!&rsquo; said an old
+      woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I&rsquo;ll glimpse you! Where are you shoving to?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Father Sergius noticed that the merchant seemed to be acting roughly, and
+      in a feeble voice told the attendant that the people should not be driven
+      away. He knew that they would be driven away all the same, and he much
+      desired to be left alone and to rest, but he sent the attendant with that
+      message to produce an impression.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;All right, all right! I am not driving them away. I am only remonstrating
+      with them,&rsquo; replied the merchant. &lsquo;You know they wouldn&rsquo;t hesitate to
+      drive a man to death. They have no pity, they only consider themselves....
+      You&rsquo;ve been told you cannot see him. Go away! To-morrow!&rsquo; And he got rid
+      of them all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took all these pains because he liked order and liked to domineer and
+      drive the people away, but chiefly because he wanted to have Father
+      Sergius to himself. He was a widower with an only daughter who was an
+      invalid and unmarried, and whom he had brought fourteen hundred versts to
+      Father Sergius to be healed. For two years past he had been taking her to
+      different places to be cured: first to the university clinic in the chief
+      town of the province, but that did no good; then to a peasant in the
+      province of Samara, where she got a little better; then to a doctor in
+      Moscow to whom he paid much money, but this did no good at all. Now he had
+      been told that Father Sergius wrought cures, and had brought her to him.
+      So when all the people had been driven away he approached Father Sergius,
+      and suddenly falling on his knees loudly exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Holy Father! Bless my afflicted offspring that she may be healed of her
+      malady. I venture to prostrate myself at your holy feet.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he placed one hand on the other, cup-wise. He said and did all this as
+      if he were doing something clearly and firmly appointed by law and usage&mdash;as
+      if one must and should ask for a daughter to be cured in just this way and
+      no other. He did it with such conviction that it seemed even to Father
+      Sergius that it should be said and done in just that way, but nevertheless
+      he bade him rise and tell him what the trouble was. The merchant said that
+      his daughter, a girl of twenty-two, had fallen ill two years ago, after
+      her mother&rsquo;s sudden death. She had moaned (as he expressed it) and since
+      then had not been herself. And now he had brought her fourteen hundred
+      versts and she was waiting in the hostelry till Father Sergius should give
+      orders to bring her. She did not go out during the day, being afraid of
+      the light, and could only come after sunset.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Is she very weak?&rsquo; asked Father Sergius.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;No, she has no particular weakness. She is quite plump, and is only
+      &ldquo;nerastenic&rdquo; the doctors say. If you will only let me bring her this
+      evening, Father Sergius, I&rsquo;ll fly like a spirit to fetch her. Holy Father!
+      Revive a parent&rsquo;s heart, restore his line, save his afflicted daughter by
+      your prayers!&rsquo; And the merchant again threw himself on his knees and
+      bending sideways, with his head resting on his clenched fists, remained
+      stock still. Father Sergius again told him to get up, and thinking how
+      heavy his activities were and how he went through with them patiently
+      notwithstanding, he sighed heavily and after a few seconds of silence,
+      said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Well, bring her this evening. I will pray for her, but now I am
+      tired....&rsquo; and he closed his eyes. &lsquo;I will send for you.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The merchant went away, stepping on tiptoe, which only made his boots
+      creak the louder, and Father Sergius remained alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His whole life was filled by Church services and by people who came to see
+      him, but to-day had been a particularly difficult one. In the morning an
+      important official had arrived and had had a long conversation with him;
+      after that a lady had come with her son. This son was a sceptical young
+      professor whom the mother, an ardent believer and devoted to Father
+      Sergius, had brought that he might talk to him. The conversation had been
+      very trying. The young man, evidently not wishing to have a controversy
+      with a monk, had agreed with him in everything as with someone who was
+      mentally inferior. Father Sergius saw that the young man did not believe
+      but yet was satisfied, tranquil, and at ease, and the memory of that
+      conversation now disquieted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Have something to eat, Father,&rsquo; said the attendant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;All right, bring me something.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The attendant went to a hut that had been arranged some ten paces from the
+      cave, and Father Sergius remained alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The time was long past when he had lived alone doing everything for
+      himself and eating only rye-bread, or rolls prepared for the Church. He
+      had been advised long since that he had no right to neglect his health,
+      and he was given wholesome, though Lenten, food. He ate sparingly, though
+      much more than he had done, and often he ate with much pleasure, and not
+      as formerly with aversion and a sense of guilt. So it was now. He had some
+      gruel, drank a cup of tea, and ate half a white roll.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The attendant went away, and Father Sergius remained alone under the elm
+      tree.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a wonderful May evening, when the birches, aspens, elms, wild
+      cherries, and oaks, had just burst into foliage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bush of wild cherries behind the elm tree was in full bloom and had
+      not yet begun to shed its blossoms, and the nightingales&mdash;one quite
+      near at hand and two or three others in the bushes down by the river&mdash;burst
+      into full song after some preliminary twitters. From the river came the
+      far-off songs of peasants returning, no doubt, from their work. The sun
+      was setting behind the forest, its last rays glowing through the leaves.
+      All that side was brilliant green, the other side with the elm tree was
+      dark. The cockchafers flew clumsily about, falling to the ground when they
+      collided with anything.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After supper Father Sergius began to repeat a silent prayer: &lsquo;O Lord Jesus
+      Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon us!&rsquo; and then he read a psalm, and
+      suddenly in the middle of the psalm a sparrow flew out from the bush,
+      alighted on the ground, and hopped towards him chirping as it came, but
+      then it took fright at something and flew away. He said a prayer which
+      referred to his abandonment of the world, and hastened to finish it in
+      order to send for the merchant with the sick daughter. She interested him
+      in that she presented a distraction, and because both she and her father
+      considered him a saint whose prayers were efficacious. Outwardly he
+      disavowed that idea, but in the depths of his soul he considered it to be
+      true.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was often amazed that this had happened, that he, Stepan Kasatsky, had
+      come to be such an extraordinary saint and even a worker of miracles, but
+      of the fact that he was such there could not be the least doubt. He could
+      not fail to believe in the miracles he himself witnessed, beginning with
+      the sick boy and ending with the old woman who had recovered her sight
+      when he had prayed for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Strange as it might be, it was so. Accordingly the merchant&rsquo;s daughter
+      interested him as a new individual who had faith in him, and also as a
+      fresh opportunity to confirm his healing powers and enhance his fame.
+      &lsquo;They bring people a thousand versts and write about it in the papers. The
+      Emperor knows of it, and they know of it in Europe, in unbelieving Europe&rsquo;&mdash;thought
+      he. And suddenly he felt ashamed of his vanity and again began to pray.
+      &lsquo;Lord, King of Heaven, Comforter, Soul of Truth! Come and enter into me
+      and cleanse me from all sin and save and bless my soul. Cleanse me from
+      the sin of worldly vanity that troubles me!&rsquo; he repeated, and he
+      remembered how often he had prayed about this and how vain till now his
+      prayers had been in that respect. His prayers worked miracles for others,
+      but in his own case God had not granted him liberation from this petty
+      passion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He remembered his prayers at the commencement of his life at the
+      hermitage, when he prayed for purity, humility, and love, and how it
+      seemed to him then that God heard his prayers. He had retained his purity
+      and had chopped off his finger. And he lifted the shrivelled stump of that
+      finger to his lips and kissed it. It seemed to him now that he had been
+      humble then when he had always seemed loathsome to himself on account of
+      his sinfulness; and when he remembered the tender feelings with which he
+      had then met an old man who was bringing a drunken soldier to him to ask
+      alms; and how he had received HER, it seemed to him that he had then
+      possessed love also. But now? And he asked himself whether he loved
+      anyone, whether he loved Sofya Ivanovna, or Father Seraphim, whether he
+      had any feeling of love for all who had come to him that day&mdash;for
+      that learned young man with whom he had had that instructive discussion in
+      which he was concerned only to show off his own intelligence and that he
+      had not lagged behind the times in knowledge. He wanted and needed their
+      love, but felt none towards them. He now had neither love nor humility nor
+      purity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was pleased to know that the merchant&rsquo;s daughter was twenty-two, and he
+      wondered whether she was good-looking. When he inquired whether she was
+      weak, he really wanted to know if she had feminine charm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Can I have fallen so low?&rsquo; he thought. &lsquo;Lord, help me! Restore me, my
+      Lord and God!&rsquo; And he clasped his hands and began to pray.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The nightingales burst into song, a cockchafer knocked against him and
+      crept up the back of his neck. He brushed it off. &lsquo;But does He exist? What
+      if I am knocking at a door fastened from outside? The bar is on the door
+      for all to see. Nature&mdash;the nightingales and the cockchafers&mdash;is
+      that bar. Perhaps the young man was right.&rsquo; And he began to pray aloud. He
+      prayed for a long time till these thoughts vanished and he again felt calm
+      and confident. He rang the bell and told the attendant to say that the
+      merchant might bring his daughter to him now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The merchant came, leading his daughter by the arm. He led her into the
+      cell and immediately left her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was a very fair girl, plump and very short, with a pale, frightened,
+      childish face and a much developed feminine figure. Father Sergius
+      remained seated on the bench at the entrance and when she was passing and
+      stopped beside him for his blessing he was aghast at himself for the way
+      he looked at her figure. As she passed by him he was acutely conscious of
+      her femininity, though he saw by her face that she was sensual and
+      feeble-minded. He rose and went into the cell. She was sitting on a stool
+      waiting for him, and when he entered she rose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I want to go back to Papa,&rsquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Don&rsquo;t be afraid,&rsquo; he replied. &lsquo;What are you suffering from?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I am in pain all over,&rsquo; she said, and suddenly her face lit up with a
+      smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;You will be well,&rsquo; said he. &lsquo;Pray!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;What is the use of praying? I have prayed and it does no good&rsquo;&mdash;and
+      she continued to smile. &lsquo;I want you to pray for me and lay your hands on
+      me. I saw you in a dream.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;How did you see me?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I saw you put your hands on my breast like that.&rsquo; She took his hand and
+      pressed it to her breast. &lsquo;Just here.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He yielded his right hand to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;What is your name?&rsquo; he asked, trembling all over and feeling that he was
+      overcome and that his desire had already passed beyond control.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Marie. Why?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She took his hand and kissed it, and then put her arm round his waist and
+      pressed him to herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;What are you doing?&rsquo; he said. &lsquo;Marie, you are a devil!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Oh, perhaps. What does it matter?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And embracing him she sat down with him on the bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At dawn he went out into the porch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Can this all have happened? Her father will come and she will tell him
+      everything. She is a devil! What am I to do? Here is the axe with which I
+      chopped off my finger.&rsquo; He snatched up the axe and moved back towards the
+      cell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The attendant came up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Do you want some wood chopped? Let me have the axe.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sergius yielded up the axe and entered the cell. She was lying there
+      asleep. He looked at her with horror, and passed on beyond the partition,
+      where he took down the peasant clothes and put them on. Then he seized a
+      pair of scissors, cut off his long hair, and went out along the path down
+      the hill to the river, where he had not been for more than three years.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A road ran beside the river and he went along it and walked till noon.
+      Then he went into a field of rye and lay down there. Towards evening he
+      approached a village, but without entering it went towards the cliff that
+      overhung the river. There he again lay down to rest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was early morning, half an hour before sunrise. All was damp and gloomy
+      and a cold early wind was blowing from the west. &lsquo;Yes, I must end it all.
+      There is no God. But how am I to end it? Throw myself into the river? I
+      can swim and should not drown. Hang myself? Yes, just throw this sash over
+      a branch.&rsquo; This seemed so feasible and so easy that he felt horrified. As
+      usual at moments of despair he felt the need of prayer. But there was no
+      one to pray to. There was no God. He lay down resting on his arm, and
+      suddenly such a longing for sleep overcame him that he could no longer
+      support his head on his hand, but stretched out his arm, laid his head
+      upon it, and fell asleep. But that sleep lasted only for a moment. He woke
+      up immediately and began not to dream but to remember.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He saw himself as a child in his mother&rsquo;s home in the country. A carriage
+      drives up, and out of it steps Uncle Nicholas Sergeevich, with his long,
+      spade-shaped, black beard, and with him Pashenka, a thin little girl with
+      large mild eyes and a timid pathetic face. And into their company of boys
+      Pashenka is brought and they have to play with her, but it is dull. She is
+      silly, and it ends by their making fun of her and forcing her to show how
+      she can swim. She lies down on the floor and shows them, and they all
+      laugh and make a fool of her. She sees this and blushes red in patches and
+      becomes more pitiable than before, so pitiable that he feels ashamed and
+      can never forget that crooked, kindly, submissive smile. And Sergius
+      remembered having seen her since then. Long after, just before he became a
+      monk, she had married a landowner who squandered all her fortune and was
+      in the habit of beating her. She had had two children, a son and a
+      daughter, but the son had died while still young. And Sergius remembered
+      having seen her very wretched. Then again he had seen her in the monastery
+      when she was a widow. She had been still the same, not exactly stupid, but
+      insipid, insignificant, and pitiable. She had come with her daughter and
+      her daughter&rsquo;s fiance. They were already poor at that time and later on he
+      had heard that she was living in a small provincial town and was very
+      poor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Why am I thinking about her?&rsquo; he asked himself, but he could not cease
+      doing so. &lsquo;Where is she? How is she getting on? Is she still as unhappy as
+      she was then when she had to show us how to swim on the floor? But why
+      should I think about her? What am I doing? I must put an end to myself.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And again he felt afraid, and again, to escape from that thought, he went
+      on thinking about Pashenka.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So he lay for a long time, thinking now of his unavoidable end and now of
+      Pashenka. She presented herself to him as a means of salvation. At last he
+      fell asleep, and in his sleep he saw an angel who came to him and said:
+      &lsquo;Go to Pashenka and learn from her what you have to do, what your sin is,
+      and wherein lies your salvation.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He awoke, and having decided that this was a vision sent by God, he felt
+      glad, and resolved to do what had been told him in the vision. He knew the
+      town where she lived. It was some three hundred versts (two hundred miles)
+      away, and he set out to walk there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Pashenka had already long ceased to be Pashenka and had become old,
+      withered, wrinkled Praskovya Mikhaylovna, mother-in-law of that failure,
+      the drunken official Mavrikyev. She was living in the country town where
+      he had had his last appointment, and there she was supporting the family:
+      her daughter, her ailing neurasthenic son-in-law, and her five
+      grandchildren. She did this by giving music lessons to tradesmen&rsquo;s
+      daughters, giving four and sometimes five lessons a day of an hour each,
+      and earning in this way some sixty rubles (6 pounds) a month. So they
+      lived for the present, in expectation of another appointment. She had sent
+      letters to all her relations and acquaintances asking them to obtain a
+      post for her son-in-law, and among the rest she had written to Sergius,
+      but that letter had not reached him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a Saturday, and Praskovya Mikhaylovna was herself mixing dough for
+      currant bread such as the serf-cook on her father&rsquo;s estate used to make so
+      well. She wished to give her grandchildren a treat on the Sunday.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Masha, her daughter, was nursing her youngest child, the eldest boy and
+      girl were at school, and her son-in-law was asleep, not having slept
+      during the night. Praskovya Mikhaylovna had remained awake too for a great
+      part of the night, trying to soften her daughter&rsquo;s anger against her
+      husband.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She saw that it was impossible for her son-in-law, a weak creature, to be
+      other than he was, and realized that his wife&rsquo;s reproaches could do no
+      good&mdash;so she used all her efforts to soften those reproaches and to
+      avoid recrimination and anger. Unkindly relations between people caused
+      her actual physical suffering. It was so clear to her that bitter feelings
+      do not make anything better, but only make everything worse. She did not
+      in fact think about this: she simply suffered at the sight of anger as she
+      would from a bad smell, a harsh noise, or from blows on her body.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had&mdash;with a feeling of self-satisfaction&mdash;just taught
+      Lukerya how to mix the dough, when her six-year-old grandson Misha,
+      wearing an apron and with darned stockings on his crooked little legs, ran
+      into the kitchen with a frightened face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Grandma, a dreadful old man wants to see you.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lukerya looked out at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;There is a pilgrim of some kind, a man...&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Praskovya Mikhaylovna rubbed her thin elbows against one another, wiped
+      her hands on her apron and went upstairs to get a five-kopek piece [about
+      a penny] out of her purse for him, but remembering that she had nothing
+      less than a ten-kopek piece she decided to give him some bread instead.
+      She returned to the cupboard, but suddenly blushed at the thought of
+      having grudged the ten-kopek piece, and telling Lukerya to cut a slice of
+      bread, went upstairs again to fetch it. &lsquo;It serves you right,&rsquo; she said to
+      herself. &lsquo;You must now give twice over.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She gave both the bread and the money to the pilgrim, and when doing so&mdash;far
+      from being proud of her generosity&mdash;she excused herself for giving so
+      little. The man had such an imposing appearance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Though he had tramped two hundred versts as a beggar, though he was
+      tattered and had grown thin and weatherbeaten, though he had cropped his
+      long hair and was wearing a peasant&rsquo;s cap and boots, and though he bowed
+      very humbly, Sergius still had the impressive appearance that made him so
+      attractive. But Praskovya Mikhaylovna did not recognize him. She could
+      hardly do so, not having seen him for almost twenty years.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Don&rsquo;t think ill of me, Father. Perhaps you want something to eat?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took the bread and the money, and Praskovya Mikhaylovna was surprised
+      that he did not go, but stood looking at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Pashenka, I have come to you! Take me in...&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His beautiful black eyes, shining with the tears that started in them,
+      were fixed on her with imploring insistence. And under his greyish
+      moustache his lips quivered piteously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Praskovya Mikhaylovna pressed her hands to her withered breast, opened her
+      mouth, and stood petrified, staring at the pilgrim with dilated eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;It can&rsquo;t be! Stepa! Sergey! Father Sergius!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Yes, it is I,&rsquo; said Sergius in a low voice. &lsquo;Only not Sergius, or Father
+      Sergius, but a great sinner, Stepan Kasatsky&mdash;a great and lost
+      sinner. Take me in and help me!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;It&rsquo;s impossible! How have you so humbled yourself? But come in.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She reached out her hand, but he did not take it and only followed her in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But where was she to take him? The lodging was a small one. Formerly she
+      had had a tiny room, almost a closet, for herself, but later she had given
+      it up to her daughter, and Masha was now sitting there rocking the baby.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Sit here for the present,&rsquo; she said to Sergius, pointing to a bench in
+      the kitchen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat down at once, and with an evidently accustomed movement slipped the
+      straps of his wallet first off one shoulder and then off the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;My God, my God! How you have humbled yourself, Father! Such great fame,
+      and now like this...&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sergius did not reply, but only smiled meekly, placing his wallet under
+      the bench on which he sat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Masha, do you know who this is?&rsquo;&mdash;And in a whisper Praskovya
+      Mikhaylovna told her daughter who he was, and together they then carried
+      the bed and the cradle out of the tiny room and cleared it for Sergius.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Praskovya Mikhaylovna led him into it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Here you can rest. Don&rsquo;t take offence... but I must go out.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Where to?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I have to go to a lesson. I am ashamed to tell you, but I teach music!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Music? But that is good. Only just one thing, Praskovya Mikhaylovna, I
+      have come to you with a definite object. When can I have a talk with you?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I shall be very glad. Will this evening do?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Yes. But one thing more. Don&rsquo;t speak about me, or say who I am. I have
+      revealed myself only to you. No one knows where I have gone to. It must be
+      so.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Oh, but I have told my daughter.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Well, ask her not to mention it.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Sergius took off his boots, lay down, and at once fell asleep after a
+      sleepless night and a walk of nearly thirty miles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Praskovya Mikhaylovna returned, Sergius was sitting in the little
+      room waiting for her. He did not come out for dinner, but had some soup
+      and gruel which Lukerya brought him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;How is it that you have come back earlier than you said?&rsquo; asked Sergius.
+      &lsquo;Can I speak to you now?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;How is it that I have the happiness to receive such a guest? I have
+      missed one of my lessons. That can wait... I had always been planning to
+      go to see you. I wrote to you, and now this good fortune has come.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Pashenka, please listen to what I am going to tell you as to a confession
+      made to God at my last hour. Pashenka, I am not a holy man, I am not even
+      as good as a simple ordinary man; I am a loathsome, vile, and proud sinner
+      who has gone astray, and who, if not worse than everyone else, is at least
+      worse than most very bad people.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Pashenka looked at him at first with staring eyes. But she believed what
+      he said, and when she had quite grasped it she touched his hand, smiling
+      pityingly, and said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Perhaps you exaggerate, Stiva?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;No, Pashenka. I am an adulterer, a murderer, a blasphemer, and a
+      deceiver.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;My God! How is that?&rsquo; exclaimed Praskovya Mikhaylovna.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;But I must go on living. And I, who thought I knew everything, who taught
+      others how to live&mdash;I know nothing and ask you to teach me.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;What are you saying, Stiva? You are laughing at me. Why do you always
+      make fun of me?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Well, if you think I am jesting you must have it as you please. But tell
+      me all the same how you live, and how you have lived your life.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I? I have lived a very nasty, horrible life, and now God is punishing me
+      as I deserve. I live so wretchedly, so wretchedly...&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;How was it with your marriage? How did you live with your husband?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;It was all bad. I married because I fell in love in the nastiest way.
+      Papa did not approve. But I would not listen to anything and just got
+      married. Then instead of helping my husband I tormented him by my
+      jealousy, which I could not restrain.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I heard that he drank...&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Yes, but I did not give him any peace. I always reproached him, though
+      you know it is a disease! He could not refrain from it. I now remember how
+      I tried to prevent his having it, and the frightful scenes we had!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And she looked at Kasatsky with beautiful eyes, suffering from the
+      remembrance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Kasatsky remembered how he had been told that Pashenka&rsquo;s husband used to
+      beat her, and now, looking at her thin withered neck with prominent veins
+      behind her ears, and her scanty coil of hair, half grey half auburn, he
+      seemed to see just how it had occurred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Then I was left with two children and no means at all.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;But you had an estate!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Oh, we sold that while Vasya was still alive, and the money was all
+      spent. We had to live, and like all our young ladies I did not know how to
+      earn anything. I was particularly useless and helpless. So we spent all we
+      had. I taught the children and improved my own education a little. And
+      then Mitya fell ill when he was already in the fourth form, and God took
+      him. Masha fell in love with Vanya, my son-in-law. And&mdash;well, he is
+      well-meaning but unfortunate. He is ill.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Mamma!&rsquo;&mdash;her daughter&rsquo;s voice interrupted her&mdash;&lsquo;Take Mitya! I
+      can&rsquo;t be in two places at once.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Praskovya Mikhaylovna shuddered, but rose and went out of the room,
+      stepping quickly in her patched shoes. She soon came back with a boy of
+      two in her arms, who threw himself backwards and grabbed at her shawl with
+      his little hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Where was I? Oh yes, he had a good appointment here, and his chief was a
+      kind man too. But Vanya could not go on, and had to give up his position.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;What is the matter with him?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Neurasthenia&mdash;it is a dreadful complaint. We consulted a doctor, who
+      told us he ought to go away, but we had no means.... I always hope it will
+      pass of itself. He has no particular pain, but...&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Lukerya!&rsquo; cried an angry and feeble voice. &lsquo;She is always sent away when
+      I want her. Mamma...&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I&rsquo;m coming!&rsquo; Praskovya Mikhaylovna again interrupted herself. &lsquo;He has not
+      had his dinner yet. He can&rsquo;t eat with us.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She went out and arranged something, and came back wiping her thin dark
+      hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;So that is how I live. I always complain and am always dissatisfied, but
+      thank God the grandchildren are all nice and healthy, and we can still
+      live. But why talk about me?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;But what do you live on?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Well, I earn a little. How I used to dislike music, but how useful it is
+      to me now!&rsquo; Her small hand lay on the chest of drawers beside which she
+      was sitting, and she drummed an exercise with her thin fingers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;How much do you get for a lesson?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Sometimes a ruble, sometimes fifty kopeks, or sometimes thirty. They are
+      all so kind to me.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;And do your pupils get on well?&rsquo; asked Kasatsky with a slight smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Praskovya Mikhaylovna did not at first believe that he was asking
+      seriously, and looked inquiringly into his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Some of them do. One of them is a splendid girl&mdash;the butcher&rsquo;s
+      daughter&mdash;such a good kind girl! If I were a clever woman I ought, of
+      course, with the connexions Papa had, to be able to get an appointment for
+      my son-in-law. But as it is I have not been able to do anything, and have
+      brought them all to this&mdash;as you see.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Yes, yes,&rsquo; said Kasatsky, lowering his head. &lsquo;And how is it, Pashenka&mdash;do
+      you take part in Church life?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t speak of it. I am so bad that way, and have neglected it so! I
+      keep the fasts with the children and sometimes go to church, and then
+      again sometimes I don&rsquo;t go for months. I only send the children.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;But why don&rsquo;t you go yourself?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;To tell the truth&rsquo; (she blushed) &lsquo;I am ashamed, for my daughter&rsquo;s sake
+      and the children&rsquo;s, to go there in tattered clothes, and I haven&rsquo;t
+      anything else. Besides, I am just lazy.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;And do you pray at home?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I do. But what sort of prayer is it? Only mechanical. I know it should
+      not be like that, but I lack real religious feeling. The only thing is
+      that I know how bad I am...&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Yes, yes, that&rsquo;s right!&rsquo; said Kasatsky, as if approvingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I&rsquo;m coming! I&rsquo;m coming!&rsquo; she replied to a call from her son-in-law, and
+      tidying her scanty plait she left the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But this time it was long before she returned. When she came back,
+      Kasatsky was sitting in the same position, his elbows resting on his knees
+      and his head bowed. But his wallet was strapped on his back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she came in, carrying a small tin lamp without a shade, he raised his
+      fine weary eyes and sighed very deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;I did not tell them who you are,&rsquo; she began timidly. &lsquo;I only said that
+      you are a pilgrim, a nobleman, and that I used to know you. Come into the
+      dining-room for tea.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;No...&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Well then, I&rsquo;ll bring some to you here.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;No, I don&rsquo;t want anything. God bless you, Pashenka! I am going now. If
+      you pity me, don&rsquo;t tell anyone that you have seen me. For the love of God
+      don&rsquo;t tell anyone. Thank you. I would bow to your feet but I know it would
+      make you feel awkward. Thank you, and forgive me for Christ&rsquo;s sake!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Give me your blessing.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;God bless you! Forgive me for Christ&rsquo;s sake!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He rose, but she would not let him go until she had given him bread and
+      butter and rusks. He took it all and went away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was dark, and before he had passed the second house he was lost to
+      sight. She only knew he was there because the dog at the priest&rsquo;s house
+      was barking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;So that is what my dream meant! Pashenka is what I ought to have been but
+      failed to be. I lived for men on the pretext of living for God, while she
+      lived for God imagining that she lives for men. Yes, one good deed&mdash;a
+      cup of water given without thought of reward&mdash;is worth more than any
+      benefit I imagined I was bestowing on people. But after all was there not
+      some share of sincere desire to serve God?&rsquo; he asked himself, and the
+      answer was: &lsquo;Yes, there was, but it was all soiled and overgrown by desire
+      for human praise. Yes, there is no God for the man who lives, as I did,
+      for human praise. I will now seek Him!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And he walked from village to village as he had done on his way to
+      Pashenka, meeting and parting from other pilgrims, men and women, and
+      asking for bread and a night&rsquo;s rest in Christ&rsquo;s name. Occasionally some
+      angry housewife scolded him, or a drunken peasant reviled him, but for the
+      most part he was given food and drink and even something to take with him.
+      His noble bearing disposed some people in his favour, while others on the
+      contrary seemed pleased at the sight of a gentleman who had come to
+      beggary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But his gentleness prevailed with everyone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Often, finding a copy of the Gospels in a hut he would read it aloud, and
+      when they heard him the people were always touched and surprised, as at
+      something new yet familiar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he succeeded in helping people, either by advice, or by his knowledge
+      of reading and writing, or by settling some quarrel, he did not wait to
+      see their gratitude but went away directly afterwards. And little by
+      little God began to reveal Himself within him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once he was walking along with two old women and a soldier. They were
+      stopped by a party consisting of a lady and gentleman in a gig and another
+      lady and gentleman on horseback. The husband was on horseback with his
+      daughter, while in the gig his wife was driving with a Frenchman,
+      evidently a traveller.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The party stopped to let the Frenchman see the pilgrims who, in accord
+      with a popular Russian superstition, tramped about from place to place
+      instead of working.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They spoke French, thinking that the others would not understand them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Demandez-leur,&rsquo; said the Frenchman, &lsquo;s&rsquo;ils sont bien sur de ce que leur
+      pelerinage est agreable a Dieu.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The question was asked, and one old woman replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;As God takes it. Our feet have reached the holy places, but our hearts
+      may not have done so.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They asked the soldier. He said that he was alone in the world and had
+      nowhere else to go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They asked Kasatsky who he was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;A servant of God.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Qu&rsquo;est-ce qu&rsquo;il dit? Il ne repond pas.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Il dit qu&rsquo;il est un serviteur de Dieu. Cela doit etre un fils de preetre.
+      Il a de la race. Avez-vous de la petite monnaie?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Frenchman found some small change and gave twenty kopeks to each of
+      the pilgrims.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;Mais dites-leur que ce n&rsquo;est pas pour les cierges que je leur donne, mais
+      pour qu&rsquo;ils se regalent de the. Chay, chay pour vous, mon vieux!&rsquo; he said
+      with a smile. And he patted Kasatsky on the shoulder with his gloved hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &lsquo;May Christ bless you,&rsquo; replied Kasatsky without replacing his cap and
+      bowing his bald head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He rejoiced particularly at this meeting, because he had disregarded the
+      opinion of men and had done the simplest, easiest thing&mdash;humbly
+      accepted twenty kopeks and given them to his comrade, a blind beggar. The
+      less importance he attached to the opinion of men the more did he feel the
+      presence of God within him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For eight months Kasatsky tramped on in this manner, and in the ninth
+      month he was arrested for not having a passport. This happened at a
+      night-refuge in a provincial town where he had passed the night with some
+      pilgrims. He was taken to the police-station, and when asked who he was
+      and where was his passport, he replied that he had no passport and that he
+      was a servant of God. He was classed as a tramp, sentenced, and sent to
+      live in Siberia.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In Siberia he has settled down as the hired man of a well-to-do peasant,
+      in which capacity he works in the kitchen-garden, teaches children, and
+      attends to the sick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Father Sergius, by Leo Tolstoy
+
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+</pre>
+  </body>
+</html>
diff --git a/985.txt b/985.txt
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--- /dev/null
+++ b/985.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,2373 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Father Sergius, by Leo Tolstoy
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Father Sergius
+
+Author: Leo Tolstoy
+
+Translator: Louise and Aylmer Maude
+
+Release Date: July, 1997  [Etext #985]
+Posting Date: July 9, 2009
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FATHER SERGIUS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judith Boss
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FATHER SERGIUS
+
+By Leo Tolstoy
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+In Petersburg in the eighteen-forties a surprising event occurred. An
+officer of the Cuirassier Life Guards, a handsome prince who everyone
+predicted would become aide-de-camp to the Emperor Nicholas I and have
+a brilliant career, left the service, broke off his engagement to a
+beautiful maid of honour, a favourite of the Empress's, gave his small
+estate to his sister, and retired to a monastery to become a monk.
+
+This event appeared extraordinary and inexplicable to those who did not
+know his inner motives, but for Prince Stepan Kasatsky himself it all
+occurred so naturally that he could not imagine how he could have acted
+otherwise.
+
+His father, a retired colonel of the Guards, had died when Stepan was
+twelve, and sorry as his mother was to part from her son, she entered
+him at the Military College as her deceased husband had intended.
+
+The widow herself, with her daughter, Varvara, moved to Petersburg to be
+near her son and have him with her for the holidays.
+
+The boy was distinguished both by his brilliant ability and by his
+immense self-esteem. He was first both in his studies--especially in
+mathematics, of which he was particularly fond--and also in drill and in
+riding. Though of more than average height, he was handsome and agile,
+and he would have been an altogether exemplary cadet had it not been for
+his quick temper. He was remarkably truthful, and was neither dissipated
+nor addicted to drink. The only faults that marred his conduct were
+fits of fury to which he was subject and during which he lost control of
+himself and became like a wild animal. He once nearly threw out of the
+window another cadet who had begun to tease him about his collection
+of minerals. On another occasion he came almost completely to grief
+by flinging a whole dish of cutlets at an officer who was acting as
+steward, attacking him and, it was said, striking him for having broken
+his word and told a barefaced lie. He would certainly have been reduced
+to the ranks had not the Director of the College hushed up the whole
+matter and dismissed the steward.
+
+By the time he was eighteen he had finished his College course and
+received a commission as lieutenant in an aristocratic regiment of the
+Guards.
+
+The Emperor Nicholas Pavlovich (Nicholas I) had noticed him while he
+was still at the College, and continued to take notice of him in the
+regiment, and it was on this account that people predicted for him an
+appointment as aide-de-camp to the Emperor. Kasatsky himself strongly
+desired it, not from ambition only but chiefly because since his cadet
+days he had been passionately devoted to Nicholas Pavlovich. The Emperor
+had often visited the Military College and every time Kasatsky saw
+that tall erect figure, with breast expanded in its military overcoat,
+entering with brisk step, saw the cropped side-whiskers, the moustache,
+the aquiline nose, and heard the sonorous voice exchanging greetings
+with the cadets, he was seized by the same rapture that he experienced
+later on when he met the woman he loved. Indeed, his passionate
+adoration of the Emperor was even stronger: he wished to sacrifice
+something--everything, even himself--to prove his complete devotion.
+And the Emperor Nicholas was conscious of evoking this rapture and
+deliberately aroused it. He played with the cadets, surrounded himself
+with them, treating them sometimes with childish simplicity, sometimes
+as a friend, and then again with majestic solemnity. After that affair
+with the officer, Nicholas Pavlovich said nothing to Kasatsky, but when
+the latter approached he waved him away theatrically, frowned, shook his
+finger at him, and afterwards when leaving, said: 'Remember that I know
+everything. There are some things I would rather not know, but they
+remain here,' and he pointed to his heart.
+
+When on leaving College the cadets were received by the Emperor, he did
+not again refer to Kasatsky's offence, but told them all, as was his
+custom, that they should serve him and the fatherland loyally, that he
+would always be their best friend, and that when necessary they might
+approach him direct. All the cadets were as usual greatly moved, and
+Kasatsky even shed tears, remembering the past, and vowed that he would
+serve his beloved Tsar with all his soul.
+
+When Kasatsky took up his commission his mother moved with her daughter
+first to Moscow and then to their country estate. Kasatsky gave half his
+property to his sister and kept only enough to maintain himself in the
+expensive regiment he had joined.
+
+To all appearance he was just an ordinary, brilliant young officer
+of the Guards making a career for himself; but intense and complex
+strivings went on within him. From early childhood his efforts had
+seemed to be very varied, but essentially they were all one and the
+same. He tried in everything he took up to attain such success and
+perfection as would evoke praise and surprise. Whether it was his
+studies or his military exercises, he took them up and worked at them
+till he was praised and held up as an example to others. Mastering one
+subject he took up another, and obtained first place in his studies. For
+example, while still at College he noticed in himself an awkwardness in
+French conversation, and contrived to master French till he spoke it
+as well as Russian, and then he took up chess and became an excellent
+player.
+
+Apart from his main vocation, which was the service of his Tsar and
+the fatherland, he always set himself some particular aim, and however
+unimportant it was, devoted himself completely to it and lived for it
+until it was accomplished. And as soon as it was attained another
+aim would immediately present itself, replacing its predecessor. This
+passion for distinguishing himself, or for accomplishing something
+in order to distinguish himself, filled his life. On taking up his
+commission he set himself to acquire the utmost perfection in knowledge
+of the service, and very soon became a model officer, though still with
+the same fault of ungovernable irascibility, which here in the service
+again led him to commit actions inimical to his success. Then he took to
+reading, having once in conversation in society felt himself deficient
+in general education--and again achieved his purpose. Then, wishing
+to secure a brilliant position in high society, he learnt to dance
+excellently and very soon was invited to all the balls in the best
+circles, and to some of their evening gatherings. But this did not
+satisfy him: he was accustomed to being first, and in this society was
+far from being so.
+
+The highest society then consisted, and I think always consist, of
+four sorts of people: rich people who are received at Court, people
+not wealthy but born and brought up in Court circles, rich people who
+ingratiate themselves into the Court set, and people neither rich nor
+belonging to the Court but who ingratiate themselves into the first and
+second sets.
+
+Kasatsky did not belong to the first two sets, but was readily welcomed
+in the others. On entering society he determined to have relations with
+some society lady, and to his own surprise quickly accomplished this
+purpose. He soon realized, however, that the circles in which he moved
+were not the highest, and that though he was received in the highest
+spheres he did not belong to them. They were polite to him, but showed
+by their whole manner that they had their own set and that he was not of
+it. And Kasatsky wished to belong to that inner circle. To attain that
+end it would be necessary to be an aide-de-camp to the Emperor--which
+he expected to become--or to marry into that exclusive set, which he
+resolved to do. And his choice fell on a beauty belonging to the
+Court, who not merely belonged to the circle into which he wished to be
+accepted, but whose friendship was coveted by the very highest people
+and those most firmly established in that highest circle. This was
+Countess Korotkova. Kasatsky began to pay court to her, and not merely
+for the sake of his career. She was extremely attractive and he soon
+fell in love with her. At first she was noticeably cool towards him,
+but then suddenly changed and became gracious, and her mother gave him
+pressing invitations to visit them. Kasatsky proposed and was accepted.
+He was surprised at the facility with which he attained such happiness.
+But though he noticed something strange and unusual in the behaviour
+towards him of both mother and daughter, he was blinded by being
+so deeply in love, and did not realize what almost the whole town
+knew--namely, that his fiancee had been the Emperor Nicholas's mistress
+the previous year.
+
+Two weeks before the day arranged for the wedding, Kasatsky was at
+Tsarskoe Selo at his fiancee's country place. It was a hot day in May.
+He and his betrothed had walked about the garden and were sitting on
+a bench in a shady linden alley. Mary's white muslin dress suited her
+particularly well, and she seemed the personification of innocence and
+love as she sat, now bending her head, now gazing up at the very tall
+and handsome man who was speaking to her with particular tenderness and
+self-restraint, as if he feared by word or gesture to offend or sully
+her angelic purity.
+
+Kasatsky belonged to those men of the eighteen-forties (they are now no
+longer to be found) who while deliberately and without any conscientious
+scruples condoning impurity in themselves, required ideal and angelic
+purity in their women, regarded all unmarried women of their circle as
+possessed of such purity, and treated them accordingly. There was much
+that was false and harmful in this outlook, as concerning the laxity the
+men permitted themselves, but in regard to the women that old-fashioned
+view (sharply differing from that held by young people to-day who see in
+every girl merely a female seeking a mate) was, I think, of value. The
+girls, perceiving such adoration, endeavoured with more or less success
+to be goddesses.
+
+Such was the view Kasatsky held of women, and that was how he regarded
+his fiancee. He was particularly in love that day, but did not
+experience any sensual desire for her. On the contrary he regarded her
+with tender adoration as something unattainable.
+
+He rose to his full height, standing before her with both hands on his
+sabre.
+
+'I have only now realized what happiness a man can experience! And it is
+you, my darling, who have given me this happiness,' he said with a timid
+smile.
+
+Endearments had not yet become usual between them, and feeling himself
+morally inferior he felt terrified at this stage to use them to such an
+angel.
+
+'It is thanks to you that I have come to know myself. I have learnt that
+I am better than I thought.'
+
+'I have known that for a long time. That was why I began to love you.'
+
+Nightingales trilled near by and the fresh leafage rustled, moved by a
+passing breeze.
+
+He took her hand and kissed it, and tears came into his eyes.
+
+She understood that he was thanking her for having said she loved him.
+He silently took a few steps up and down, and then approached her again
+and sat down.
+
+'You know... I have to tell you... I was not disinterested when I
+began to make love to you. I wanted to get into society; but later...
+how unimportant that became in comparison with you--when I got to know
+you. You are not angry with me for that?'
+
+She did not reply but merely touched his hand. He understood that this
+meant: 'No, I am not angry.'
+
+'You said...' He hesitated. It seemed too bold to say. 'You said that
+you began to love me. I believe it--but there is something that troubles
+you and checks your feeling. What is it?'
+
+'Yes--now or never!' thought she. 'He is bound to know of it anyway. But
+now he will not forsake me. Ah, if he should, it would be terrible!' And
+she threw a loving glance at his tall, noble, powerful figure. She loved
+him now more than she had loved the Tsar, and apart from the Imperial
+dignity would not have preferred the Emperor to him.
+
+'Listen! I cannot deceive you. I have to tell you. You ask what it is?
+It is that I have loved before.'
+
+She again laid her hand on his with an imploring gesture. He was silent.
+
+'You want to know who it was? It was--the Emperor.'
+
+'We all love him. I can imagine you, a schoolgirl at the Institute...'
+
+'No, it was later. I was infatuated, but it passed... I must tell
+you...'
+
+'Well, what of it?'
+
+'No, it was not simply--' She covered her face with her hands.
+
+'What? You gave yourself to him?'
+
+She was silent.
+
+'His mistress?'
+
+She did not answer.
+
+He sprang up and stood before her with trembling jaws, pale as death. He
+now remembered how the Emperor, meeting him on the Nevsky, had amiably
+congratulated him.
+
+'O God, what have I done! Stiva!'
+
+'Don't touch me! Don't touch me! Oh, how it pains!'
+
+He turned away and went to the house. There he met her mother.
+
+'What is the matter, Prince? I...' She became silent on seeing his
+face. The blood had suddenly rushed to his head.
+
+'You knew it, and used me to shield them! If you weren't a woman...!'
+he cried, lifting his enormous fist, and turning aside he ran away.
+
+Had his fiancee's lover been a private person he would have killed him,
+but it was his beloved Tsar.
+
+Next day he applied both for furlough and his discharge, and professing
+to be ill, so as to see no one, he went away to the country.
+
+He spent the summer at his village arranging his affairs. When summer
+was over he did not return to Petersburg, but entered a monastery and
+there became a monk.
+
+His mother wrote to try to dissuade him from this decisive step, but
+he replied that he felt God's call which transcended all other
+considerations. Only his sister, who was as proud and ambitious as he,
+understood him.
+
+She understood that he had become a monk in order to be above those who
+considered themselves his superiors. And she understood him correctly.
+By becoming a monk he showed contempt for all that seemed most important
+to others and had seemed so to him while he was in the service, and
+he now ascended a height from which he could look down on those he had
+formerly envied.... But it was not this alone, as his sister Varvara
+supposed, that influenced him. There was also in him something else--a
+sincere religious feeling which Varvara did not know, which intertwined
+itself with the feeling of pride and the desire for pre-eminence,
+and guided him. His disillusionment with Mary, whom he had thought
+of angelic purity, and his sense of injury, were so strong that they
+brought him to despair, and the despair led him--to what? To God, to his
+childhood's faith which had never been destroyed in him.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+Kasatsky entered the monastery on the feast of the Intercession of the
+Blessed Virgin. The Abbot of that monastery was a gentleman by birth, a
+learned writer and a starets, that is, he belonged to that succession
+of monks originating in Walachia who each choose a director and teacher
+whom they implicitly obey. This Superior had been a disciple of the
+starets Ambrose, who was a disciple of Makarius, who was a disciple of
+the starets Leonid, who was a disciple of Paussy Velichkovsky.
+
+To this Abbot Kasatsky submitted himself as to his chosen director. Here
+in the monastery, besides the feeling of ascendency over others that
+such a life gave him, he felt much as he had done in the world: he found
+satisfaction in attaining the greatest possible perfection outwardly
+as well as inwardly. As in the regiment he had been not merely an
+irreproachable officer but had even exceeded his duties and widened the
+borders of perfection, so also as a monk he tried to be perfect, and was
+always industrious, abstemious, submissive, and meek, as well as
+pure both in deed and in thought, and obedient. This last quality in
+particular made life far easier for him. If many of the demands of life
+in the monastery, which was near the capital and much frequented, did
+not please him and were temptations to him, they were all nullified by
+obedience: 'It is not for me to reason; my business is to do the task
+set me, whether it be standing beside the relics, singing in the choir,
+or making up accounts in the monastery guest-house.' All possibility of
+doubt about anything was silenced by obedience to the starets. Had
+it not been for this, he would have been oppressed by the length and
+monotony of the church services, the bustle of the many visitors, and
+the bad qualities of the other monks. As it was, he not only bore it
+all joyfully but found in it solace and support. 'I don't know why it is
+necessary to hear the same prayers several times a day, but I know that
+it is necessary; and knowing this I find joy in them.' His director told
+him that as material food is necessary for the maintenance of the life
+of the body, so spiritual food--the church prayers--is necessary for
+the maintenance of the spiritual life. He believed this, and though the
+church services, for which he had to get up early in the morning, were
+a difficulty, they certainly calmed him and gave him joy. This was the
+result of his consciousness of humility, and the certainty that whatever
+he had to do, being fixed by the starets, was right.
+
+The interest of his life consisted not only in an ever greater and
+greater subjugation of his will, but in the attainment of all the
+Christian virtues, which at first seemed to him easily attainable. He
+had given his whole estate to his sister and did not regret it, he had
+no personal claims, humility towards his inferiors was not merely easy
+for him but afforded him pleasure. Even victory over the sins of the
+flesh, greed and lust, was easily attained. His director had specially
+warned him against the latter sin, but Kasatsky felt free from it and
+was glad.
+
+One thing only tormented him--the remembrance of his fiancee; and not
+merely the remembrance but the vivid image of what might have been.
+Involuntarily he recalled a lady he knew who had been a favourite of the
+Emperor's, but had afterwards married and become an admirable wife and
+mother. The husband had a high position, influence and honour, and a
+good and penitent wife.
+
+In his better hours Kasatsky was not disturbed by such thoughts, and
+when he recalled them at such times he was merely glad to feel that the
+temptation was past. But there were moments when all that made up his
+present life suddenly grew dim before him, moments when, if he did not
+cease to believe in the aims he had set himself, he ceased to see them
+and could evoke no confidence in them but was seized by a remembrance
+of, and--terrible to say--a regret for, the change of life he had made.
+
+The only thing that saved him in that state of mind was obedience and
+work, and the fact that the whole day was occupied by prayer. He went
+through the usual forms of prayer, he bowed in prayer, he even prayed
+more than usual, but it was lip-service only and his soul was not in it.
+This condition would continue for a day, or sometimes for two days, and
+would then pass of itself. But those days were dreadful. Kasatsky felt
+that he was neither in his own hands nor in God's, but was subject
+to something else. All he could do then was to obey the starets, to
+restrain himself, to undertake nothing, and simply to wait. In general
+all this time he lived not by his own will but by that of the starets,
+and in this obedience he found a special tranquillity.
+
+So he lived in his first monastery for seven years. At the end of the
+third year he received the tonsure and was ordained to the priesthood by
+the name of Sergius. The profession was an important event in his inner
+life. He had previously experienced a great consolation and spiritual
+exaltation when receiving communion, and now when he himself officiated,
+the performance of the preparation filled him with ecstatic and deep
+emotion. But subsequently that feeling became more and more deadened,
+and once when he was officiating in a depressed state of mind he felt
+that the influence produced on him by the service would not endure. And
+it did in fact weaken till only the habit remained.
+
+In general in the seventh year of his life in the monastery Sergius grew
+weary. He had learnt all there was to learn and had attained all there
+was to attain, there was nothing more to do and his spiritual drowsiness
+increased. During this time he heard of his mother's death and his
+sister Varvara's marriage, but both events were matters of indifference
+to him. His whole attention and his whole interest were concentrated on
+his inner life.
+
+In the fourth year of his priesthood, during which the Bishop had been
+particularly kind to him, the starets told him that he ought not to
+decline it if he were offered an appointment to higher duties. Then
+monastic ambition, the very thing he had found so repulsive in other
+monks, arose within him. He was assigned to a monastery near the
+metropolis. He wished to refuse but the starets ordered him to accept
+the appointment. He did so, and took leave of the starets and moved to
+the other monastery.
+
+The exchange into the metropolitan monastery was an important event in
+Sergius's life. There he encountered many temptations, and his whole
+will-power was concentrated on meeting them.
+
+In the first monastery, women had not been a temptation to him, but
+here that temptation arose with terrible strength and even took definite
+shape. There was a lady known for her frivolous behaviour who began to
+seek his favour. She talked to him and asked him to visit her. Sergius
+sternly declined, but was horrified by the definiteness of his desire.
+He was so alarmed that he wrote about it to the starets. And in
+addition, to keep himself in hand, he spoke to a young novice and,
+conquering his sense of shame, confessed his weakness to him, asking him
+to keep watch on him and not let him go anywhere except to service and
+to fulfil his duties.
+
+Besides this, a great pitfall for Sergius lay in the fact of his extreme
+antipathy to his new Abbot, a cunning worldly man who was making a
+career for himself in the Church. Struggle with himself as he might, he
+could not master that feeling. He was submissive to the Abbot, but in
+the depths of his soul he never ceased to condemn him. And in the second
+year of his residence at the new monastery that ill-feeling broke out.
+
+The Vigil service was being performed in the large church on the eve of
+the feast of the Intercession of the Blessed Virgin, and there were many
+visitors. The Abbot himself was conducting the service. Father Sergius
+was standing in his usual place and praying: that is, he was in that
+condition of struggle which always occupied him during the service,
+especially in the large church when he was not himself conducting the
+service. This conflict was occasioned by his irritation at the presence
+of fine folk, especially ladies. He tried not to see them or to notice
+all that went on: how a soldier conducted them, pushing the
+common people aside, how the ladies pointed out the monks to one
+another--especially himself and a monk noted for his good looks. He
+tried as it were to keep his mind in blinkers, to see nothing but
+the light of the candles on the altar-screen, the icons, and those
+conducting the service. He tried to hear nothing but the prayers
+that were being chanted or read, to feel nothing but self-oblivion in
+consciousness of the fulfilment of duty--a feeling he always experienced
+when hearing or reciting in advance the prayers he had so often heard.
+
+So he stood, crossing and prostrating himself when necessary, and
+struggled with himself, now giving way to cold condemnation and now to
+a consciously evoked obliteration of thought and feeling. Then the
+sacristan, Father Nicodemus--also a great stumbling-block to Sergius
+who involuntarily reproached him for flattering and fawning on the
+Abbot--approached him and, bowing low, requested his presence behind the
+holy gates. Father Sergius straightened his mantle, put on his biretta,
+and went circumspectly through the crowd.
+
+'Lise, regarde a droite, c'est lui!' he heard a woman's voice say.
+
+'Ou, ou? Il n'est pas tellement beau.'
+
+He knew that they were speaking of him. He heard them and, as always
+at moments of temptation, he repeated the words, 'Lead us not into
+temptation,' and bowing his head and lowering his eyes went past the
+ambo and in by the north door, avoiding the canons in their cassocks who
+were just then passing the altar-screen. On entering the sanctuary he
+bowed, crossing himself as usual and bending double before the icons.
+Then, raising his head but without turning, he glanced out of the corner
+of his eye at the Abbot, whom he saw standing beside another glittering
+figure.
+
+The Abbot was standing by the wall in his vestments. Having freed his
+short plump hands from beneath his chasuble he had folded them over
+his fat body and protruding stomach, and fingering the cords of his
+vestments was smilingly saying something to a military man in the
+uniform of a general of the Imperial suite, with its insignia
+and shoulder-knots which Father Sergius's experienced eye at once
+recognized. This general had been the commander of the regiment in which
+Sergius had served. He now evidently occupied an important position, and
+Father Sergius at once noticed that the Abbot was aware of this and that
+his red face and bald head beamed with satisfaction and pleasure. This
+vexed and disgusted Father Sergius, the more so when he heard that the
+Abbot had only sent for him to satisfy the general's curiosity to see a
+man who had formerly served with him, as he expressed it.
+
+'Very pleased to see you in your angelic guise,' said the general,
+holding out his hand. 'I hope you have not forgotten an old comrade.'
+
+The whole thing--the Abbot's red, smiling face amid its fringe of grey,
+the general's words, his well-cared-for face with its self-satisfied
+smile and the smell of wine from his breath and of cigars from his
+whiskers--revolted Father Sergius. He bowed again to the Abbot and said:
+
+'Your reverence deigned to send for me?'--and stopped, the whole
+expression of his face and eyes asking why.
+
+'Yes, to meet the General,' replied the Abbot.
+
+'Your reverence, I left the world to save myself from temptation,' said
+Father Sergius, turning pale and with quivering lips. 'Why do you expose
+me to it during prayers and in God's house?'
+
+'You may go! Go!' said the Abbot, flaring up and frowning.
+
+Next day Father Sergius asked pardon of the Abbot and of the brethren
+for his pride, but at the same time, after a night spent in prayer, he
+decided that he must leave this monastery, and he wrote to the starets
+begging permission to return to him. He wrote that he felt his weakness
+and incapacity to struggle against temptation without his help and
+penitently confessed his sin of pride. By return of post came a letter
+from the starets, who wrote that Sergius's pride was the cause of all
+that had happened. The old man pointed out that his fits of anger were
+due to the fact that in refusing all clerical honours he humiliated
+himself not for the sake of God but for the sake of his pride. 'There
+now, am I not a splendid man not to want anything?' That was why he
+could not tolerate the Abbot's action. 'I have renounced everything for
+the glory of God, and here I am exhibited like a wild beast!' 'Had you
+renounced vanity for God's sake you would have borne it. Worldly pride
+is not yet dead in you. I have thought about you, Sergius my son, and
+prayed also, and this is what God has suggested to me. At the Tambov
+hermitage the anchorite Hilary, a man of saintly life, has died. He had
+lived there eighteen years. The Tambov Abbot is asking whether there is
+not a brother who would take his place. And here comes your letter. Go
+to Father Paissy of the Tambov Monastery. I will write to him about you,
+and you must ask for Hilary's cell. Not that you can replace Hilary, but
+you need solitude to quell your pride. May God bless you!'
+
+Sergius obeyed the starets, showed his letter to the Abbot, and having
+obtained his permission, gave up his cell, handed all his possessions
+over to the monastery, and set out for the Tambov hermitage.
+
+There the Abbot, an excellent manager of merchant origin, received
+Sergius simply and quietly and placed him in Hilary's cell, at first
+assigning to him a lay brother but afterwards leaving him alone, at
+Sergius's own request. The cell was a dual cave, dug into the hillside,
+and in it Hilary had been buried. In the back part was Hilary's grave,
+while in the front was a niche for sleeping, with a straw mattress, a
+small table, and a shelf with icons and books. Outside the outer door,
+which fastened with a hook, was another shelf on which, once a day, a
+monk placed food from the monastery.
+
+And so Sergius became a hermit.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+At Carnival time, in the sixth year of Sergius's life at the hermitage,
+a merry company of rich people, men and women from a neighbouring town,
+made up a troyka-party, after a meal of carnival-pancakes and wine. The
+company consisted of two lawyers, a wealthy landowner, an officer, and
+four ladies. One lady was the officer's wife, another the wife of
+the landowner, the third his sister--a young girl--and the fourth a
+divorcee, beautiful, rich, and eccentric, who amazed and shocked the
+town by her escapades.
+
+The weather was excellent and the snow-covered road smooth as a floor.
+They drove some seven miles out of town, and then stopped and consulted
+as to whether they should turn back or drive farther.
+
+'But where does this road lead to?' asked Makovkina, the beautiful
+divorcee.
+
+'To Tambov, eight miles from here,' replied one of the lawyers, who was
+having a flirtation with her.
+
+'And then where?'
+
+'Then on to L----, past the Monastery.'
+
+'Where that Father Sergius lives?'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'Kasatsky, the handsome hermit?'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'Mesdames et messieurs, let us drive on and see Kasatsky! We can stop at
+Tambov and have something to eat.'
+
+'But we shouldn't get home to-night!'
+
+'Never mind, we will stay at Kasatsky's.'
+
+'Well, there is a very good hostelry at the Monastery. I stayed there
+when I was defending Makhin.'
+
+'No, I shall spend the night at Kasatsky's!'
+
+'Impossible! Even your omnipotence could not accomplish that!'
+
+'Impossible? Will you bet?'
+
+'All right! If you spend the night with him, the stake shall be whatever
+you like.'
+
+'A DISCRETION!'
+
+'But on your side too!'
+
+'Yes, of course. Let us drive on.'
+
+Vodka was handed to the drivers, and the party got out a box of pies,
+wine, and sweets for themselves. The ladies wrapped up in their white
+dogskins. The drivers disputed as to whose troyka should go ahead, and
+the youngest, seating himself sideways with a dashing air, swung his
+long knout and shouted to the horses. The troyka-bells tinkled and the
+sledge-runners squeaked over the snow.
+
+The sledge swayed hardly at all. The shaft-horse, with his tightly bound
+tail under his decorated breechband, galloped smoothly and briskly; the
+smooth road seemed to run rapidly backwards, while the driver dashingly
+shook the reins. One of the lawyers and the officer sitting opposite
+talked nonsense to Makovkina's neighbour, but Makovkina herself sat
+motionless and in thought, tightly wrapped in her fur. 'Always the same
+and always nasty! The same red shiny faces smelling of wine and cigars!
+The same talk, the same thoughts, and always about the same things! And
+they are all satisfied and confident that it should be so, and will
+go on living like that till they die. But I can't. It bores me. I want
+something that would upset it all and turn it upside down. Suppose
+it happened to us as to those people--at Saratov was it?--who kept on
+driving and froze to death.... What would our people do? How would
+they behave? Basely, for certain. Each for himself. And I too should act
+badly. But I at any rate have beauty. They all know it. And how about
+that monk? Is it possible that he has become indifferent to it? No! That
+is the one thing they all care for--like that cadet last autumn. What a
+fool he was!'
+
+'Ivan Nikolaevich!' she said aloud.
+
+'What are your commands?'
+
+'How old is he?'
+
+'Who?'
+
+'Kasatsky.'
+
+'Over forty, I should think.'
+
+'And does he receive all visitors?'
+
+'Yes, everybody, but not always.'
+
+'Cover up my feet. Not like that--how clumsy you are! No! More,
+more--like that! But you need not squeeze them!'
+
+So they came to the forest where the cell was.
+
+Makovkina got out of the sledge, and told them to drive on. They tried
+to dissuade her, but she grew irritable and ordered them to go on.
+
+When the sledges had gone she went up the path in her white dogskin
+coat. The lawyer got out and stopped to watch her.
+
+It was Father Sergius's sixth year as a recluse, and he was now
+forty-nine. His life in solitude was hard--not on account of the fasts
+and the prayers (they were no hardship to him) but on account of an
+inner conflict he had not at all anticipated. The sources of that
+conflict were two: doubts, and the lust of the flesh. And these two
+enemies always appeared together. It seemed to him that they were two
+foes, but in reality they were one and the same. As soon as doubt was
+gone so was the lustful desire. But thinking them to be two different
+fiends he fought them separately.
+
+'O my God, my God!' thought he. 'Why dost thou not grant me faith? There
+is lust, of course: even the saints had to fight that--Saint Anthony and
+others. But they had faith, while I have moments, hours, and days, when
+it is absent. Why does the whole world, with all its delights, exist
+if it is sinful and must be renounced? Why hast Thou created this
+temptation? Temptation? Is it not rather a temptation that I wish to
+abandon all the joys of earth and prepare something for myself there
+where perhaps there is nothing?' And he became horrified and filled with
+disgust at himself. 'Vile creature! And it is you who wish to become a
+saint!' he upbraided himself, and he began to pray. But as soon as he
+started to pray he saw himself vividly as he had been at the Monastery,
+in a majestic post in biretta and mantle, and he shook his head. 'No,
+that is not right. It is deception. I may deceive others, but not myself
+or God. I am not a majestic man, but a pitiable and ridiculous one!' And
+he threw back the folds of his cassock and smiled as he looked at his
+thin legs in their underclothing.
+
+Then he dropped the folds of the cassock again and began reading the
+prayers, making the sign of the cross and prostrating himself. 'Can
+it be that this couch will be my bier?' he read. And it seemed as if a
+devil whispered to him: 'A solitary couch is itself a bier. Falsehood!'
+And in imagination he saw the shoulders of a widow with whom he had
+lived. He shook himself, and went on reading. Having read the precepts
+he took up the Gospels, opened the book, and happened on a passage
+he often repeated and knew by heart: 'Lord, I believe. Help thou my
+unbelief!'--and he put away all the doubts that had arisen. As one
+replaces an object of insecure equilibrium, so he carefully replaced his
+belief on its shaky pedestal and carefully stepped back from it so as
+not to shake or upset it. The blinkers were adjusted again and he felt
+tranquillized, and repeating his childhood's prayer: 'Lord, receive me,
+receive me!' he felt not merely at ease, but thrilled and joyful. He
+crossed himself and lay down on the bedding on his narrow bench, tucking
+his summer cassock under his head. He fell asleep at once, and in his
+light slumber he seemed to hear the tinkling of sledge bells. He did not
+know whether he was dreaming or awake, but a knock at the door aroused
+him. He sat up, distrusting his senses, but the knock was repeated. Yes,
+it was a knock close at hand, at his door, and with it the sound of a
+woman's voice.
+
+'My God! Can it be true, as I have read in the Lives of the Saints, that
+the devil takes on the form of a woman? Yes--it is a woman's voice.
+And a tender, timid, pleasant voice. Phui!' And he spat to exorcise the
+devil. 'No, it was only my imagination,' he assured himself, and he
+went to the corner where his lectern stood, falling on his knees in the
+regular and habitual manner which of itself gave him consolation and
+satisfaction. He sank down, his hair hanging over his face, and pressed
+his head, already going bald in front, to the cold damp strip of drugget
+on the draughty floor. He read the psalm old Father Pimon had told him
+warded off temptation. He easily raised his light and emaciated body
+on his strong sinewy legs and tried to continue saying his prayers, but
+instead of doing so he involuntarily strained his hearing. He wished
+to hear more. All was quiet. From the corner of the roof regular drops
+continued to fall into the tub below. Outside was a mist and fog eating
+into the snow that lay on the ground. It was still, very still. And
+suddenly there was a rustling at the window and a voice--that
+same tender, timid voice, which could only belong to an attractive
+woman--said:
+
+'Let me in, for Christ's sake!'
+
+It seemed as though his blood had all rushed to his heart and settled
+there. He could hardly breathe. 'Let God arise and let his enemies be
+scattered...'
+
+'But I am not a devil!' It was obvious that the lips that uttered this
+were smiling. 'I am not a devil, but only a sinful woman who has lost
+her way, not figuratively but literally!' She laughed. 'I am frozen and
+beg for shelter.'
+
+He pressed his face to the window, but the little icon-lamp was
+reflected by it and shone on the whole pane. He put his hands to both
+sides of his face and peered between them. Fog, mist, a tree, and--just
+opposite him--she herself. Yes, there, a few inches from him, was the
+sweet, kindly frightened face of a woman in a cap and a coat of long
+white fur, leaning towards him. Their eyes met with instant recognition:
+not that they had ever known one another, they had never met before,
+but by the look they exchanged they--and he particularly--felt that they
+knew and understood one another. After that glance to imagine her to be
+a devil and not a simple, kindly, sweet, timid woman, was impossible.
+
+'Who are you? Why have you come?' he asked.
+
+'Do please open the door!' she replied, with capricious authority. 'I am
+frozen. I tell you I have lost my way.'
+
+'But I am a monk--a hermit.'
+
+'Oh, do please open the door--or do you wish me to freeze under your
+window while you say your prayers?'
+
+'But how have you...'
+
+'I shan't eat you. For God's sake let me in! I am quite frozen.'
+
+She really did feel afraid, and said this in an almost tearful voice.
+
+He stepped back from the window and looked at an icon of the Saviour
+in His crown of thorns. 'Lord, help me! Lord, help me!' he exclaimed,
+crossing himself and bowing low. Then he went to the door, and opening
+it into the tiny porch, felt for the hook that fastened the outer door
+and began to lift it. He heard steps outside. She was coming from the
+window to the door. 'Ah!' she suddenly exclaimed, and he understood
+that she had stepped into the puddle that the dripping from the roof had
+formed at the threshold. His hands trembled, and he could not raise the
+hook of the tightly closed door.
+
+'Oh, what are you doing? Let me in! I am all wet. I am frozen! You are
+thinking about saving your soul and are letting me freeze to death...'
+
+He jerked the door towards him, raised the hook, and without considering
+what he was doing, pushed it open with such force that it struck her.
+
+'Oh--PARDON!' he suddenly exclaimed, reverting completely to his old
+manner with ladies.
+
+She smiled on hearing that PARDON. 'He is not quite so terrible, after
+all,' she thought. 'It's all right. It is you who must pardon me,' she
+said, stepping past him. 'I should never have ventured, but such an
+extraordinary circumstance...'
+
+'If you please!' he uttered, and stood aside to let her pass him. A
+strong smell of fine scent, which he had long not encountered, struck
+him. She went through the little porch into the cell where he lived. He
+closed the outer door without fastening the hook, and stepped in after
+her.
+
+'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner! Lord, have
+mercy on me a sinner!' he prayed unceasingly, not merely to himself but
+involuntarily moving his lips. 'If you please!' he said to her again.
+She stood in the middle of the room, moisture dripping from her to the
+floor as she looked him over. Her eyes were laughing.
+
+'Forgive me for having disturbed your solitude. But you see what a
+position I am in. It all came about from our starting from town for a
+sledge-drive, and my making a bet that I would walk back by myself from
+the Vorobevka to the town. But then I lost my way, and if I had not
+happened to come upon your cell...' She began lying, but his face
+confused her so that she could not continue, but became silent. She had
+not expected him to be at all such as he was. He was not as handsome
+as she had imagined, but was nevertheless beautiful in her eyes: his
+greyish hair and beard, slightly curling, his fine, regular nose,
+and his eyes like glowing coal when he looked at her, made a strong
+impression on her.
+
+He saw that she was lying.
+
+'Yes... so,' said he, looking at her and again lowering his eyes. 'I
+will go in there, and this place is at your disposal.'
+
+And taking down the little lamp, he lit a candle, and bowing low to her
+went into the small cell beyond the partition, and she heard him begin
+to move something about there. 'Probably he is barricading himself in
+from me!' she thought with a smile, and throwing off her white dogskin
+cloak she tried to take off her cap, which had become entangled in her
+hair and in the woven kerchief she was wearing under it. She had not
+got at all wet when standing under the window, and had said so only as
+a pretext to get him to let her in. But she really had stepped into the
+puddle at the door, and her left foot was wet up to the ankle and her
+overshoe full of water. She sat down on his bed--a bench only covered by
+a bit of carpet--and began to take off her boots. The little cell seemed
+to her charming. The narrow little room, some seven feet by nine, was as
+clean as glass. There was nothing in it but the bench on which she
+was sitting, the book-shelf above it, and a lectern in the corner.
+A sheepskin coat and a cassock hung on nails by the door. Above the
+lectern was the little lamp and an icon of Christ in His crown of
+thorns. The room smelt strangely of perspiration and of earth. It all
+pleased her--even that smell. Her wet feet, especially one of them, were
+uncomfortable, and she quickly began to take off her boots and stockings
+without ceasing to smile, pleased not so much at having achieved her
+object as because she perceived that she had abashed that charming,
+strange, striking, and attractive man. 'He did not respond, but what of
+that?' she said to herself.
+
+'Father Sergius! Father Sergius! Or how does one call you?'
+
+'What do you want?' replied a quiet voice.
+
+'Please forgive me for disturbing your solitude, but really I could not
+help it. I should simply have fallen ill. And I don't know that I shan't
+now. I am all wet and my feet are like ice.'
+
+'Pardon me,' replied the quiet voice. 'I cannot be of any assistance to
+you.'
+
+'I would not have disturbed you if I could have helped it. I am only
+here till daybreak.'
+
+He did not reply and she heard him muttering something, probably his
+prayers.
+
+'You will not be coming in here?' she asked, smiling. 'For I must
+undress to dry myself.'
+
+He did not reply, but continued to read his prayers.
+
+'Yes, that is a man!' thought she, getting her dripping boot off with
+difficulty. She tugged at it, but could not get it off. The absurdity of
+it struck her and she began to laugh almost inaudibly. But knowing that
+he would hear her laughter and would be moved by it just as she wished
+him to be, she laughed louder, and her laughter--gay, natural, and
+kindly--really acted on him just in the way she wished.
+
+'Yes, I could love a man like that--such eyes and such a simple noble
+face, and passionate too despite all the prayers he mutters!' thought
+she. 'You can't deceive a woman in these things. As soon as he put his
+face to the window and saw me, he understood and knew. The glimmer of it
+was in his eyes and remained there. He began to love me and desired me.
+Yes--desired!' said she, getting her overshoe and her boot off at last
+and starting to take off her stockings. To remove those long stockings
+fastened with elastic it was necessary to raise her skirts. She felt
+embarrassed and said:
+
+'Don't come in!'
+
+But there was no reply from the other side of the wall. The steady
+muttering continued and also a sound of moving.
+
+'He is prostrating himself to the ground, no doubt,' thought she.
+'But he won't bow himself out of it. He is thinking of me just as I
+am thinking of him. He is thinking of these feet of mine with the same
+feeling that I have!' And she pulled off her wet stockings and put her
+feet up on the bench, pressing them under her. She sat a while like that
+with her arms round her knees and looking pensively before her. 'But it
+is a desert, here in this silence. No one would ever know....'
+
+She rose, took her stockings over to the stove, and hung them on the
+damper. It was a queer damper, and she turned it about, and then,
+stepping lightly on her bare feet, returned to the bench and sat down
+there again with her feet up.
+
+There was complete silence on the other side of the partition. She
+looked at the tiny watch that hung round her neck. It was two o'clock.
+'Our party should return about three!' She had not more than an hour
+before her. 'Well, am I to sit like this all alone? What nonsense! I
+don't want to. I will call him at once.'
+
+'Father Sergius, Father Sergius! Sergey Dmitrich! Prince Kasatsky!'
+
+Beyond the partition all was silent.
+
+'Listen! This is cruel. I would not call you if it were not necessary.
+I am ill. I don't know what is the matter with me!' she exclaimed in a
+tone of suffering. 'Oh! Oh!' she groaned, falling back on the bench. And
+strange to say she really felt that her strength was failing, that
+she was becoming faint, that everything in her ached, and that she was
+shivering with fever.
+
+'Listen! Help me! I don't know what is the matter with me. Oh! Oh!' She
+unfastened her dress, exposing her breast, and lifted her arms, bare to
+the elbow. 'Oh! Oh!'
+
+All this time he stood on the other side of the partition and prayed.
+Having finished all the evening prayers, he now stood motionless, his
+eyes looking at the end of his nose, and mentally repeated with all his
+soul: 'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon me!'
+
+But he had heard everything. He had heard how the silk rustled when she
+took off her dress, how she stepped with bare feet on the floor, and had
+heard how she rubbed her feet with her hand. He felt his own weakness,
+and that he might be lost at any moment. That was why he prayed
+unceasingly. He felt rather as the hero in the fairy-tale must have felt
+when he had to go on and on without looking round. So Sergius heard and
+felt that danger and destruction were there, hovering above and
+around him, and that he could only save himself by not looking in that
+direction for an instant. But suddenly the desire to look seized him. At
+the same instant she said:
+
+'This is inhuman. I may die....'
+
+'Yes, I will go to her, but like the Saint who laid one hand on the
+adulteress and thrust his other into the brazier. But there is no
+brazier here.' He looked round. The lamp! He put his finger over the
+flame and frowned, preparing himself to suffer. And for a rather long
+time, as it seemed to him, there was no sensation, but suddenly--he
+had not yet decided whether it was painful enough--he writhed all over,
+jerked his hand away, and waved it in the air. 'No, I can't stand that!'
+
+'For God's sake come to me! I am dying! Oh!'
+
+'Well--shall I perish? No, not so!'
+
+'I will come to you directly,' he said, and having opened his door, he
+went without looking at her through the cell into the porch where he
+used to chop wood. There he felt for the block and for an axe which
+leant against the wall.
+
+'Immediately!' he said, and taking up the axe with his right hand he
+laid the forefinger of his left hand on the block, swung the axe, and
+struck with it below the second joint. The finger flew off more lightly
+than a stick of similar thickness, and bounding up, turned over on the
+edge of the block and then fell to the floor.
+
+He heard it fall before he felt any pain, but before he had time to be
+surprised he felt a burning pain and the warmth of flowing blood. He
+hastily wrapped the stump in the skirt of his cassock, and pressing it
+to his hip went back into the room, and standing in front of the woman,
+lowered his eyes and asked in a low voice: 'What do you want?'
+
+She looked at his pale face and his quivering left cheek, and suddenly
+felt ashamed. She jumped up, seized her fur cloak, and throwing it round
+her shoulders, wrapped herself up in it.
+
+'I was in pain... I have caught cold... I... Father Sergius...
+I...'
+
+He let his eyes, shining with a quiet light of joy, rest upon her, and
+said:
+
+'Dear sister, why did you wish to ruin your immortal soul? Temptations
+must come into the world, but woe to him by whom temptation comes. Pray
+that God may forgive us!'
+
+She listened and looked at him. Suddenly she heard the sound of
+something dripping. She looked down and saw that blood was flowing from
+his hand and down his cassock.
+
+'What have you done to your hand?' She remembered the sound she had
+heard, and seizing the little lamp ran out into the porch. There on the
+floor she saw the bloody finger. She returned with her face paler than
+his and was about to speak to him, but he silently passed into the back
+cell and fastened the door.
+
+'Forgive me!' she said. 'How can I atone for my sin?'
+
+'Go away.'
+
+'Let me tie up your hand.'
+
+'Go away from here.'
+
+She dressed hurriedly and silently, and when ready sat waiting in her
+furs. The sledge-bells were heard outside.
+
+'Father Sergius, forgive me!'
+
+'Go away. God will forgive.'
+
+'Father Sergius! I will change my life. Do not forsake me!'
+
+'Go away.'
+
+'Forgive me--and give me your blessing!'
+
+'In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost!'--she
+heard his voice from behind the partition. 'Go!'
+
+She burst into sobs and left the cell. The lawyer came forward to meet
+her.
+
+'Well, I see I have lost the bet. It can't be helped. Where will you
+sit?'
+
+'It is all the same to me.'
+
+She took a seat in the sledge, and did not utter a word all the way
+home.
+
+A year later she entered a convent as a novice, and lived a strict life
+under the direction of the hermit Arseny, who wrote letters to her at
+long intervals.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+Father Sergius lived as a recluse for another seven years.
+
+At first he accepted much of what people brought him--tea, sugar, white
+bread, milk, clothing, and fire-wood. But as time went on he led a more
+and more austere life, refusing everything superfluous, and finally he
+accepted nothing but rye-bread once a week. Everything else that was
+brought to him he gave to the poor who came to him. He spent his entire
+time in his cell, in prayer or in conversation with callers, who became
+more and more numerous as time went on. Only three times a year did
+he go out to church, and when necessary he went out to fetch water and
+wood.
+
+The episode with Makovkina had occurred after five years of his hermit
+life. That occurrence soon became generally known--her nocturnal visit,
+the change she underwent, and her entry into a convent. From that time
+Father Sergius's fame increased. More and more visitors came to see him,
+other monks settled down near his cell, and a church was erected there
+and also a hostelry. His fame, as usual exaggerating his feats, spread
+ever more and more widely. People began to come to him from a distance,
+and began bringing invalids to him whom they declared he cured.
+
+His first cure occurred in the eighth year of his life as a hermit. It
+was the healing of a fourteen-year-old boy, whose mother brought him
+to Father Sergius insisting that he should lay his hand on the child's
+head. It had never occurred to Father Sergius that he could cure the
+sick. He would have regarded such a thought as a great sin of pride; but
+the mother who brought the boy implored him insistently, falling at his
+feet and saying: 'Why do you, who heal others, refuse to help my son?'
+She besought him in Christ's name. When Father Sergius assured her that
+only God could heal the sick, she replied that she only wanted him to
+lay his hands on the boy and pray for him. Father Sergius refused and
+returned to his cell. But next day (it was in autumn and the nights were
+already cold) on going out for water he saw the same mother with her
+son, a pale boy of fourteen, and was met by the same petition.
+
+He remembered the parable of the unjust judge, and though he had
+previously felt sure that he ought to refuse, he now began to hesitate
+and, having hesitated, took to prayer and prayed until a decision formed
+itself in his soul. This decision was, that he ought to accede to the
+woman's request and that her faith might save her son. As for himself,
+he would in this case be but an insignificant instrument chosen by God.
+
+And going out to the mother he did what she asked--laid his hand on the
+boy's head and prayed.
+
+The mother left with her son, and a month later the boy recovered, and
+the fame of the holy healing power of the starets Sergius (as they now
+called him) spread throughout the whole district. After that, not a week
+passed without sick people coming, riding or on foot, to Father Sergius;
+and having acceded to one petition he could not refuse others, and he
+laid his hands on many and prayed. Many recovered, and his fame spread
+more and more.
+
+So seven years passed in the Monastery and thirteen in his hermit's
+cell. He now had the appearance of an old man: his beard was long and
+grey, but his hair, though thin, was still black and curly.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+For some weeks Father Sergius had been living with one persistent
+thought: whether he was right in accepting the position in which he had
+not so much placed himself as been placed by the Archimandrite and
+the Abbot. That position had begun after the recovery of the
+fourteen-year-old boy. From that time, with each month, week, and day
+that passed, Sergius felt his own inner life wasting away and being
+replaced by external life. It was as if he had been turned inside out.
+
+Sergius saw that he was a means of attracting visitors and contributions
+to the monastery, and that therefore the authorities arranged matters in
+such a way as to make as much use of him as possible. For instance, they
+rendered it impossible for him to do any manual work. He was supplied
+with everything he could want, and they only demanded of him that he
+should not refuse his blessing to those who came to seek it. For his
+convenience they appointed days when he would receive. They arranged a
+reception-room for men, and a place was railed in so that he should not
+be pushed over by the crowds of women visitors, and so that he could
+conveniently bless those who came.
+
+They told him that people needed him, and that fulfilling Christ's law
+of love he could not refuse their demand to see him, and that to avoid
+them would be cruel. He could not but agree with this, but the more he
+gave himself up to such a life the more he felt that what was internal
+became external, and that the fount of living water within him dried
+up, and that what he did now was done more and more for men and less and
+less for God.
+
+Whether he admonished people, or simply blessed them, or prayed for the
+sick, or advised people about their lives, or listened to expressions of
+gratitude from those he had helped by precepts, or alms, or healing (as
+they assured him)--he could not help being pleased at it, and could not
+be indifferent to the results of his activity and to the influence he
+exerted. He thought himself a shining light, and the more he felt this
+the more was he conscious of a weakening, a dying down of the divine
+light of truth that shone within him.
+
+'In how far is what I do for God and in how far is it for men?' That was
+the question that insistently tormented him and to which he was not so
+much unable to give himself an answer as unable to face the answer.
+
+In the depth of his soul he felt that the devil had substituted an
+activity for men in place of his former activity for God. He felt this
+because, just as it had formerly been hard for him to be torn from his
+solitude so now that solitude itself was hard for him. He was oppressed
+and wearied by visitors, but at the bottom of his heart he was glad of
+their presence and glad of the praise they heaped upon him.
+
+There was a time when he decided to go away and hide. He even planned
+all that was necessary for that purpose. He prepared for himself a
+peasant's shirt, trousers, coat, and cap. He explained that he wanted
+these to give to those who asked. And he kept these clothes in his cell,
+planning how he would put them on, cut his hair short, and go away.
+First he would go some three hundred versts by train, then he would
+leave the train and walk from village to village. He asked an old man
+who had been a soldier how he tramped: what people gave him, and what
+shelter they allowed him. The soldier told him where people were most
+charitable, and where they would take a wanderer in for the night, and
+Father Sergius intended to avail himself of this information. He even
+put on those clothes one night in his desire to go, but he could not
+decide what was best--to remain or to escape. At first he was in doubt,
+but afterwards this indecision passed. He submitted to custom and
+yielded to the devil, and only the peasant garb reminded him of the
+thought and feeling he had had.
+
+Every day more and more people flocked to him and less and less time was
+left him for prayer and for renewing his spiritual strength. Sometimes
+in lucid moments he thought he was like a place where there had once
+been a spring. 'There used to be a feeble spring of living water which
+flowed quietly from me and through me. That was true life, the time when
+she tempted me!' (He always thought with ecstasy of that night and of
+her who was now Mother Agnes.) She had tasted of that pure water, but
+since then there had not been time for it to collect before thirsty
+people came crowding in and pushing one another aside. And they had
+trampled everything down and nothing was left but mud.
+
+So he thought in rare moments of lucidity, but his usual state of mind
+was one of weariness and a tender pity for himself because of that
+weariness.
+
+It was in spring, on the eve of the mid-Pentecostal feast. Father
+Sergius was officiating at the Vigil Service in his hermitage church,
+where the congregation was as large as the little church could
+hold--about twenty people. They were all well-to-do proprietors or
+merchants. Father Sergius admitted anyone, but a selection was made by
+the monk in attendance and by an assistant who was sent to the hermitage
+every day from the monastery. A crowd of some eighty people--pilgrims
+and peasants, and especially peasant-women--stood outside waiting for
+Father Sergius to come out and bless them. Meanwhile he conducted
+the service, but at the point at which he went out to the tomb of his
+predecessor, he staggered and would have fallen had he not been caught
+by a merchant standing behind him and by the monk acting as deacon.
+
+'What is the matter, Father Sergius? Dear man! O Lord!' exclaimed the
+women. 'He is as white as a sheet!'
+
+But Father Sergius recovered immediately, and though very pale, he waved
+the merchant and the deacon aside and continued to chant the service.
+
+Father Seraphim, the deacon, the acolytes, and Sofya Ivanovna, a lady
+who always lived near the hermitage and tended Father Sergius, begged
+him to bring the service to an end.
+
+'No, there's nothing the matter,' said Father Sergius, slightly smiling
+from beneath his moustache and continuing the service. 'Yes, that is the
+way the Saints behave!' thought he.
+
+'A holy man--an angel of God!' he heard just then the voice of Sofya
+Ivanovna behind him, and also of the merchant who had supported him.
+He did not heed their entreaties, but went on with the service. Again
+crowding together they all made their way by the narrow passages back
+into the little church, and there, though abbreviating it slightly,
+Father Sergius completed vespers.
+
+Immediately after the service Father Sergius, having pronounced the
+benediction on those present, went over to the bench under the elm tree
+at the entrance to the cave. He wished to rest and breathe the fresh
+air--he felt in need of it. But as soon as he left the church the crowd
+of people rushed to him soliciting his blessing, his advice, and his
+help. There were pilgrims who constantly tramped from one holy place to
+another and from one starets to another, and were always entranced by
+every shrine and every starets. Father Sergius knew this common, cold,
+conventional, and most irreligious type. There were pilgrims, for
+the most part discharged soldiers, unaccustomed to a settled life,
+poverty-stricken, and many of them drunken old men, who tramped from
+monastery to monastery merely to be fed. And there were rough peasants
+and peasant-women who had come with their selfish requirements, seeking
+cures or to have doubts about quite practical affairs solved for them:
+about marrying off a daughter, or hiring a shop, or buying a bit
+of land, or how to atone for having overlaid a child or having an
+illegitimate one.
+
+All this was an old story and not in the least interesting to him. He
+knew he would hear nothing new from these folk, that they would arouse
+no religious emotion in him; but he liked to see the crowd to which
+his blessing and advice was necessary and precious, so while that crowd
+oppressed him it also pleased him. Father Seraphim began to drive them
+away, saying that Father Sergius was tired.
+
+But Father Sergius, remembering the words of the Gospel: 'Forbid them'
+(children) 'not to come unto me,' and feeling tenderly towards himself
+at this recollection, said they should be allowed to approach.
+
+He rose, went to the railing beyond which the crowd had gathered, and
+began blessing them and answering their questions, but in a voice so
+weak that he was touched with pity for himself. Yet despite his wish to
+receive them all he could not do it. Things again grew dark before his
+eyes, and he staggered and grasped the railings. He felt a rush of blood
+to his head and first went pale and then suddenly flushed.
+
+'I must leave the rest till to-morrow. I cannot do more to-day,'
+and, pronouncing a general benediction, he returned to the bench. The
+merchant again supported him, and leading him by the arm helped him to
+be seated.
+
+'Father!' came voices from the crowd. 'Dear Father! Do not forsake us.
+Without you we are lost!'
+
+The merchant, having seated Father Sergius on the bench under the elm,
+took on himself police duties and drove the people off very resolutely.
+It is true that he spoke in a low voice so that Father Sergius might not
+hear him, but his words were incisive and angry.
+
+'Be off, be off! He has blessed you, and what more do you want? Get
+along with you, or I'll wring your necks! Move on there! Get along, you
+old woman with your dirty leg-bands! Go, go! Where are you shoving to?
+You've been told that it is finished. To-morrow will be as God wills,
+but for to-day he has finished!'
+
+'Father! Only let my eyes have a glimpse of his dear face!' said an old
+woman.
+
+'I'll glimpse you! Where are you shoving to?'
+
+Father Sergius noticed that the merchant seemed to be acting roughly,
+and in a feeble voice told the attendant that the people should not be
+driven away. He knew that they would be driven away all the same, and
+he much desired to be left alone and to rest, but he sent the attendant
+with that message to produce an impression.
+
+'All right, all right! I am not driving them away. I am only
+remonstrating with them,' replied the merchant. 'You know they wouldn't
+hesitate to drive a man to death. They have no pity, they only consider
+themselves.... You've been told you cannot see him. Go away!
+To-morrow!' And he got rid of them all.
+
+He took all these pains because he liked order and liked to domineer
+and drive the people away, but chiefly because he wanted to have Father
+Sergius to himself. He was a widower with an only daughter who was an
+invalid and unmarried, and whom he had brought fourteen hundred versts
+to Father Sergius to be healed. For two years past he had been taking
+her to different places to be cured: first to the university clinic in
+the chief town of the province, but that did no good; then to a peasant
+in the province of Samara, where she got a little better; then to a
+doctor in Moscow to whom he paid much money, but this did no good at
+all. Now he had been told that Father Sergius wrought cures, and had
+brought her to him. So when all the people had been driven away he
+approached Father Sergius, and suddenly falling on his knees loudly
+exclaimed:
+
+'Holy Father! Bless my afflicted offspring that she may be healed of her
+malady. I venture to prostrate myself at your holy feet.'
+
+And he placed one hand on the other, cup-wise. He said and did all this
+as if he were doing something clearly and firmly appointed by law and
+usage--as if one must and should ask for a daughter to be cured in just
+this way and no other. He did it with such conviction that it seemed
+even to Father Sergius that it should be said and done in just that way,
+but nevertheless he bade him rise and tell him what the trouble was. The
+merchant said that his daughter, a girl of twenty-two, had fallen ill
+two years ago, after her mother's sudden death. She had moaned (as
+he expressed it) and since then had not been herself. And now he had
+brought her fourteen hundred versts and she was waiting in the hostelry
+till Father Sergius should give orders to bring her. She did not go out
+during the day, being afraid of the light, and could only come after
+sunset.
+
+'Is she very weak?' asked Father Sergius.
+
+'No, she has no particular weakness. She is quite plump, and is only
+"nerastenic" the doctors say. If you will only let me bring her this
+evening, Father Sergius, I'll fly like a spirit to fetch her. Holy
+Father! Revive a parent's heart, restore his line, save his afflicted
+daughter by your prayers!' And the merchant again threw himself on his
+knees and bending sideways, with his head resting on his clenched fists,
+remained stock still. Father Sergius again told him to get up, and
+thinking how heavy his activities were and how he went through with them
+patiently notwithstanding, he sighed heavily and after a few seconds of
+silence, said:
+
+'Well, bring her this evening. I will pray for her, but now I am
+tired....' and he closed his eyes. 'I will send for you.'
+
+The merchant went away, stepping on tiptoe, which only made his boots
+creak the louder, and Father Sergius remained alone.
+
+His whole life was filled by Church services and by people who came
+to see him, but to-day had been a particularly difficult one. In
+the morning an important official had arrived and had had a long
+conversation with him; after that a lady had come with her son. This son
+was a sceptical young professor whom the mother, an ardent believer and
+devoted to Father Sergius, had brought that he might talk to him. The
+conversation had been very trying. The young man, evidently not wishing
+to have a controversy with a monk, had agreed with him in everything
+as with someone who was mentally inferior. Father Sergius saw that the
+young man did not believe but yet was satisfied, tranquil, and at ease,
+and the memory of that conversation now disquieted him.
+
+'Have something to eat, Father,' said the attendant.
+
+'All right, bring me something.'
+
+The attendant went to a hut that had been arranged some ten paces from
+the cave, and Father Sergius remained alone.
+
+The time was long past when he had lived alone doing everything for
+himself and eating only rye-bread, or rolls prepared for the Church. He
+had been advised long since that he had no right to neglect his health,
+and he was given wholesome, though Lenten, food. He ate sparingly,
+though much more than he had done, and often he ate with much pleasure,
+and not as formerly with aversion and a sense of guilt. So it was now.
+He had some gruel, drank a cup of tea, and ate half a white roll.
+
+The attendant went away, and Father Sergius remained alone under the elm
+tree.
+
+It was a wonderful May evening, when the birches, aspens, elms, wild
+cherries, and oaks, had just burst into foliage.
+
+The bush of wild cherries behind the elm tree was in full bloom and had
+not yet begun to shed its blossoms, and the nightingales--one quite near
+at hand and two or three others in the bushes down by the river--burst
+into full song after some preliminary twitters. From the river came the
+far-off songs of peasants returning, no doubt, from their work. The sun
+was setting behind the forest, its last rays glowing through the leaves.
+All that side was brilliant green, the other side with the elm tree was
+dark. The cockchafers flew clumsily about, falling to the ground when
+they collided with anything.
+
+After supper Father Sergius began to repeat a silent prayer: 'O Lord
+Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon us!' and then he read a psalm,
+and suddenly in the middle of the psalm a sparrow flew out from the
+bush, alighted on the ground, and hopped towards him chirping as it
+came, but then it took fright at something and flew away. He said a
+prayer which referred to his abandonment of the world, and hastened to
+finish it in order to send for the merchant with the sick daughter. She
+interested him in that she presented a distraction, and because both she
+and her father considered him a saint whose prayers were efficacious.
+Outwardly he disavowed that idea, but in the depths of his soul he
+considered it to be true.
+
+He was often amazed that this had happened, that he, Stepan Kasatsky,
+had come to be such an extraordinary saint and even a worker of
+miracles, but of the fact that he was such there could not be the
+least doubt. He could not fail to believe in the miracles he himself
+witnessed, beginning with the sick boy and ending with the old woman who
+had recovered her sight when he had prayed for her.
+
+Strange as it might be, it was so. Accordingly the merchant's daughter
+interested him as a new individual who had faith in him, and also as a
+fresh opportunity to confirm his healing powers and enhance his fame.
+'They bring people a thousand versts and write about it in the papers.
+The Emperor knows of it, and they know of it in Europe, in unbelieving
+Europe'--thought he. And suddenly he felt ashamed of his vanity and
+again began to pray. 'Lord, King of Heaven, Comforter, Soul of Truth!
+Come and enter into me and cleanse me from all sin and save and bless
+my soul. Cleanse me from the sin of worldly vanity that troubles me!' he
+repeated, and he remembered how often he had prayed about this and how
+vain till now his prayers had been in that respect. His prayers worked
+miracles for others, but in his own case God had not granted him
+liberation from this petty passion.
+
+He remembered his prayers at the commencement of his life at the
+hermitage, when he prayed for purity, humility, and love, and how it
+seemed to him then that God heard his prayers. He had retained his
+purity and had chopped off his finger. And he lifted the shrivelled
+stump of that finger to his lips and kissed it. It seemed to him now
+that he had been humble then when he had always seemed loathsome to
+himself on account of his sinfulness; and when he remembered the tender
+feelings with which he had then met an old man who was bringing a
+drunken soldier to him to ask alms; and how he had received HER, it
+seemed to him that he had then possessed love also. But now? And he
+asked himself whether he loved anyone, whether he loved Sofya Ivanovna,
+or Father Seraphim, whether he had any feeling of love for all who had
+come to him that day--for that learned young man with whom he had had
+that instructive discussion in which he was concerned only to show off
+his own intelligence and that he had not lagged behind the times in
+knowledge. He wanted and needed their love, but felt none towards them.
+He now had neither love nor humility nor purity.
+
+He was pleased to know that the merchant's daughter was twenty-two, and
+he wondered whether she was good-looking. When he inquired whether she
+was weak, he really wanted to know if she had feminine charm.
+
+'Can I have fallen so low?' he thought. 'Lord, help me! Restore me, my
+Lord and God!' And he clasped his hands and began to pray.
+
+The nightingales burst into song, a cockchafer knocked against him and
+crept up the back of his neck. He brushed it off. 'But does He exist?
+What if I am knocking at a door fastened from outside? The bar is on the
+door for all to see. Nature--the nightingales and the cockchafers--is
+that bar. Perhaps the young man was right.' And he began to pray aloud.
+He prayed for a long time till these thoughts vanished and he again felt
+calm and confident. He rang the bell and told the attendant to say that
+the merchant might bring his daughter to him now.
+
+The merchant came, leading his daughter by the arm. He led her into the
+cell and immediately left her.
+
+She was a very fair girl, plump and very short, with a pale, frightened,
+childish face and a much developed feminine figure. Father Sergius
+remained seated on the bench at the entrance and when she was passing
+and stopped beside him for his blessing he was aghast at himself for
+the way he looked at her figure. As she passed by him he was acutely
+conscious of her femininity, though he saw by her face that she was
+sensual and feeble-minded. He rose and went into the cell. She was
+sitting on a stool waiting for him, and when he entered she rose.
+
+'I want to go back to Papa,' she said.
+
+'Don't be afraid,' he replied. 'What are you suffering from?'
+
+'I am in pain all over,' she said, and suddenly her face lit up with a
+smile.
+
+'You will be well,' said he. 'Pray!'
+
+'What is the use of praying? I have prayed and it does no good'--and she
+continued to smile. 'I want you to pray for me and lay your hands on me.
+I saw you in a dream.'
+
+'How did you see me?'
+
+'I saw you put your hands on my breast like that.' She took his hand and
+pressed it to her breast. 'Just here.'
+
+He yielded his right hand to her.
+
+'What is your name?' he asked, trembling all over and feeling that he
+was overcome and that his desire had already passed beyond control.
+
+'Marie. Why?'
+
+She took his hand and kissed it, and then put her arm round his waist
+and pressed him to herself.
+
+'What are you doing?' he said. 'Marie, you are a devil!'
+
+'Oh, perhaps. What does it matter?'
+
+And embracing him she sat down with him on the bed.
+
+At dawn he went out into the porch.
+
+'Can this all have happened? Her father will come and she will tell him
+everything. She is a devil! What am I to do? Here is the axe with which
+I chopped off my finger.' He snatched up the axe and moved back towards
+the cell.
+
+The attendant came up.
+
+'Do you want some wood chopped? Let me have the axe.'
+
+Sergius yielded up the axe and entered the cell. She was lying
+there asleep. He looked at her with horror, and passed on beyond the
+partition, where he took down the peasant clothes and put them on. Then
+he seized a pair of scissors, cut off his long hair, and went out along
+the path down the hill to the river, where he had not been for more than
+three years.
+
+A road ran beside the river and he went along it and walked till noon.
+Then he went into a field of rye and lay down there. Towards evening
+he approached a village, but without entering it went towards the cliff
+that overhung the river. There he again lay down to rest.
+
+It was early morning, half an hour before sunrise. All was damp and
+gloomy and a cold early wind was blowing from the west. 'Yes, I must end
+it all. There is no God. But how am I to end it? Throw myself into the
+river? I can swim and should not drown. Hang myself? Yes, just throw
+this sash over a branch.' This seemed so feasible and so easy that
+he felt horrified. As usual at moments of despair he felt the need of
+prayer. But there was no one to pray to. There was no God. He lay down
+resting on his arm, and suddenly such a longing for sleep overcame him
+that he could no longer support his head on his hand, but stretched out
+his arm, laid his head upon it, and fell asleep. But that sleep lasted
+only for a moment. He woke up immediately and began not to dream but to
+remember.
+
+He saw himself as a child in his mother's home in the country. A
+carriage drives up, and out of it steps Uncle Nicholas Sergeevich,
+with his long, spade-shaped, black beard, and with him Pashenka, a thin
+little girl with large mild eyes and a timid pathetic face. And into
+their company of boys Pashenka is brought and they have to play with
+her, but it is dull. She is silly, and it ends by their making fun of
+her and forcing her to show how she can swim. She lies down on the floor
+and shows them, and they all laugh and make a fool of her. She sees this
+and blushes red in patches and becomes more pitiable than before,
+so pitiable that he feels ashamed and can never forget that crooked,
+kindly, submissive smile. And Sergius remembered having seen her since
+then. Long after, just before he became a monk, she had married a
+landowner who squandered all her fortune and was in the habit of beating
+her. She had had two children, a son and a daughter, but the son had
+died while still young. And Sergius remembered having seen her very
+wretched. Then again he had seen her in the monastery when she was a
+widow. She had been still the same, not exactly stupid, but insipid,
+insignificant, and pitiable. She had come with her daughter and her
+daughter's fiance. They were already poor at that time and later on he
+had heard that she was living in a small provincial town and was very
+poor.
+
+'Why am I thinking about her?' he asked himself, but he could not cease
+doing so. 'Where is she? How is she getting on? Is she still as unhappy
+as she was then when she had to show us how to swim on the floor? But
+why should I think about her? What am I doing? I must put an end to
+myself.'
+
+And again he felt afraid, and again, to escape from that thought, he
+went on thinking about Pashenka.
+
+So he lay for a long time, thinking now of his unavoidable end and now
+of Pashenka. She presented herself to him as a means of salvation. At
+last he fell asleep, and in his sleep he saw an angel who came to him
+and said: 'Go to Pashenka and learn from her what you have to do, what
+your sin is, and wherein lies your salvation.'
+
+He awoke, and having decided that this was a vision sent by God, he felt
+glad, and resolved to do what had been told him in the vision. He knew
+the town where she lived. It was some three hundred versts (two hundred
+miles) away, and he set out to walk there.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+Pashenka had already long ceased to be Pashenka and had become old,
+withered, wrinkled Praskovya Mikhaylovna, mother-in-law of that failure,
+the drunken official Mavrikyev. She was living in the country town
+where he had had his last appointment, and there she was supporting the
+family: her daughter, her ailing neurasthenic son-in-law, and her five
+grandchildren. She did this by giving music lessons to tradesmen's
+daughters, giving four and sometimes five lessons a day of an hour each,
+and earning in this way some sixty rubles (6 pounds) a month. So they
+lived for the present, in expectation of another appointment. She had
+sent letters to all her relations and acquaintances asking them to
+obtain a post for her son-in-law, and among the rest she had written to
+Sergius, but that letter had not reached him.
+
+It was a Saturday, and Praskovya Mikhaylovna was herself mixing dough
+for currant bread such as the serf-cook on her father's estate used
+to make so well. She wished to give her grandchildren a treat on the
+Sunday.
+
+Masha, her daughter, was nursing her youngest child, the eldest boy and
+girl were at school, and her son-in-law was asleep, not having slept
+during the night. Praskovya Mikhaylovna had remained awake too for a
+great part of the night, trying to soften her daughter's anger against
+her husband.
+
+She saw that it was impossible for her son-in-law, a weak creature, to
+be other than he was, and realized that his wife's reproaches could do
+no good--so she used all her efforts to soften those reproaches and to
+avoid recrimination and anger. Unkindly relations between people caused
+her actual physical suffering. It was so clear to her that bitter
+feelings do not make anything better, but only make everything worse.
+She did not in fact think about this: she simply suffered at the sight
+of anger as she would from a bad smell, a harsh noise, or from blows on
+her body.
+
+She had--with a feeling of self-satisfaction--just taught Lukerya how
+to mix the dough, when her six-year-old grandson Misha, wearing an
+apron and with darned stockings on his crooked little legs, ran into the
+kitchen with a frightened face.
+
+'Grandma, a dreadful old man wants to see you.'
+
+Lukerya looked out at the door.
+
+'There is a pilgrim of some kind, a man...'
+
+Praskovya Mikhaylovna rubbed her thin elbows against one another, wiped
+her hands on her apron and went upstairs to get a five-kopek piece
+[about a penny] out of her purse for him, but remembering that she had
+nothing less than a ten-kopek piece she decided to give him some bread
+instead. She returned to the cupboard, but suddenly blushed at the
+thought of having grudged the ten-kopek piece, and telling Lukerya to
+cut a slice of bread, went upstairs again to fetch it. 'It serves you
+right,' she said to herself. 'You must now give twice over.'
+
+She gave both the bread and the money to the pilgrim, and when doing
+so--far from being proud of her generosity--she excused herself for
+giving so little. The man had such an imposing appearance.
+
+Though he had tramped two hundred versts as a beggar, though he was
+tattered and had grown thin and weatherbeaten, though he had cropped his
+long hair and was wearing a peasant's cap and boots, and though he bowed
+very humbly, Sergius still had the impressive appearance that made him
+so attractive. But Praskovya Mikhaylovna did not recognize him. She
+could hardly do so, not having seen him for almost twenty years.
+
+'Don't think ill of me, Father. Perhaps you want something to eat?'
+
+He took the bread and the money, and Praskovya Mikhaylovna was surprised
+that he did not go, but stood looking at her.
+
+'Pashenka, I have come to you! Take me in...'
+
+His beautiful black eyes, shining with the tears that started in them,
+were fixed on her with imploring insistence. And under his greyish
+moustache his lips quivered piteously.
+
+Praskovya Mikhaylovna pressed her hands to her withered breast, opened
+her mouth, and stood petrified, staring at the pilgrim with dilated
+eyes.
+
+'It can't be! Stepa! Sergey! Father Sergius!'
+
+'Yes, it is I,' said Sergius in a low voice. 'Only not Sergius, or
+Father Sergius, but a great sinner, Stepan Kasatsky--a great and lost
+sinner. Take me in and help me!'
+
+'It's impossible! How have you so humbled yourself? But come in.'
+
+She reached out her hand, but he did not take it and only followed her
+in.
+
+But where was she to take him? The lodging was a small one. Formerly
+she had had a tiny room, almost a closet, for herself, but later she had
+given it up to her daughter, and Masha was now sitting there rocking the
+baby.
+
+'Sit here for the present,' she said to Sergius, pointing to a bench in
+the kitchen.
+
+He sat down at once, and with an evidently accustomed movement slipped
+the straps of his wallet first off one shoulder and then off the other.
+
+'My God, my God! How you have humbled yourself, Father! Such great fame,
+and now like this...'
+
+Sergius did not reply, but only smiled meekly, placing his wallet under
+the bench on which he sat.
+
+'Masha, do you know who this is?'--And in a whisper Praskovya
+Mikhaylovna told her daughter who he was, and together they then carried
+the bed and the cradle out of the tiny room and cleared it for Sergius.
+
+Praskovya Mikhaylovna led him into it.
+
+'Here you can rest. Don't take offence... but I must go out.'
+
+'Where to?'
+
+'I have to go to a lesson. I am ashamed to tell you, but I teach music!'
+
+'Music? But that is good. Only just one thing, Praskovya Mikhaylovna,
+I have come to you with a definite object. When can I have a talk with
+you?'
+
+'I shall be very glad. Will this evening do?'
+
+'Yes. But one thing more. Don't speak about me, or say who I am. I have
+revealed myself only to you. No one knows where I have gone to. It must
+be so.'
+
+'Oh, but I have told my daughter.'
+
+'Well, ask her not to mention it.'
+
+And Sergius took off his boots, lay down, and at once fell asleep after
+a sleepless night and a walk of nearly thirty miles.
+
+When Praskovya Mikhaylovna returned, Sergius was sitting in the little
+room waiting for her. He did not come out for dinner, but had some soup
+and gruel which Lukerya brought him.
+
+'How is it that you have come back earlier than you said?' asked
+Sergius. 'Can I speak to you now?'
+
+'How is it that I have the happiness to receive such a guest? I have
+missed one of my lessons. That can wait... I had always been planning
+to go to see you. I wrote to you, and now this good fortune has come.'
+
+'Pashenka, please listen to what I am going to tell you as to a
+confession made to God at my last hour. Pashenka, I am not a holy man,
+I am not even as good as a simple ordinary man; I am a loathsome,
+vile, and proud sinner who has gone astray, and who, if not worse than
+everyone else, is at least worse than most very bad people.'
+
+Pashenka looked at him at first with staring eyes. But she believed what
+he said, and when she had quite grasped it she touched his hand, smiling
+pityingly, and said:
+
+'Perhaps you exaggerate, Stiva?'
+
+'No, Pashenka. I am an adulterer, a murderer, a blasphemer, and a
+deceiver.'
+
+'My God! How is that?' exclaimed Praskovya Mikhaylovna.
+
+'But I must go on living. And I, who thought I knew everything, who
+taught others how to live--I know nothing and ask you to teach me.'
+
+'What are you saying, Stiva? You are laughing at me. Why do you always
+make fun of me?'
+
+'Well, if you think I am jesting you must have it as you please. But
+tell me all the same how you live, and how you have lived your life.'
+
+'I? I have lived a very nasty, horrible life, and now God is punishing
+me as I deserve. I live so wretchedly, so wretchedly...'
+
+'How was it with your marriage? How did you live with your husband?'
+
+'It was all bad. I married because I fell in love in the nastiest way.
+Papa did not approve. But I would not listen to anything and just
+got married. Then instead of helping my husband I tormented him by my
+jealousy, which I could not restrain.'
+
+'I heard that he drank...'
+
+'Yes, but I did not give him any peace. I always reproached him, though
+you know it is a disease! He could not refrain from it. I now remember
+how I tried to prevent his having it, and the frightful scenes we had!'
+
+And she looked at Kasatsky with beautiful eyes, suffering from the
+remembrance.
+
+Kasatsky remembered how he had been told that Pashenka's husband used
+to beat her, and now, looking at her thin withered neck with prominent
+veins behind her ears, and her scanty coil of hair, half grey half
+auburn, he seemed to see just how it had occurred.
+
+'Then I was left with two children and no means at all.'
+
+'But you had an estate!'
+
+'Oh, we sold that while Vasya was still alive, and the money was all
+spent. We had to live, and like all our young ladies I did not know how
+to earn anything. I was particularly useless and helpless. So we spent
+all we had. I taught the children and improved my own education a
+little. And then Mitya fell ill when he was already in the fourth
+form, and God took him. Masha fell in love with Vanya, my son-in-law.
+And--well, he is well-meaning but unfortunate. He is ill.'
+
+'Mamma!'--her daughter's voice interrupted her--'Take Mitya! I can't be
+in two places at once.'
+
+Praskovya Mikhaylovna shuddered, but rose and went out of the room,
+stepping quickly in her patched shoes. She soon came back with a boy of
+two in her arms, who threw himself backwards and grabbed at her shawl
+with his little hands.
+
+'Where was I? Oh yes, he had a good appointment here, and his chief
+was a kind man too. But Vanya could not go on, and had to give up his
+position.'
+
+'What is the matter with him?'
+
+'Neurasthenia--it is a dreadful complaint. We consulted a doctor, who
+told us he ought to go away, but we had no means.... I always hope it
+will pass of itself. He has no particular pain, but...'
+
+'Lukerya!' cried an angry and feeble voice. 'She is always sent away
+when I want her. Mamma...'
+
+'I'm coming!' Praskovya Mikhaylovna again interrupted herself. 'He has
+not had his dinner yet. He can't eat with us.'
+
+She went out and arranged something, and came back wiping her thin dark
+hands.
+
+'So that is how I live. I always complain and am always dissatisfied,
+but thank God the grandchildren are all nice and healthy, and we can
+still live. But why talk about me?'
+
+'But what do you live on?'
+
+'Well, I earn a little. How I used to dislike music, but how useful it
+is to me now!' Her small hand lay on the chest of drawers beside which
+she was sitting, and she drummed an exercise with her thin fingers.
+
+'How much do you get for a lesson?'
+
+'Sometimes a ruble, sometimes fifty kopeks, or sometimes thirty. They
+are all so kind to me.'
+
+'And do your pupils get on well?' asked Kasatsky with a slight smile.
+
+Praskovya Mikhaylovna did not at first believe that he was asking
+seriously, and looked inquiringly into his eyes.
+
+'Some of them do. One of them is a splendid girl--the butcher's
+daughter--such a good kind girl! If I were a clever woman I ought, of
+course, with the connexions Papa had, to be able to get an appointment
+for my son-in-law. But as it is I have not been able to do anything, and
+have brought them all to this--as you see.'
+
+'Yes, yes,' said Kasatsky, lowering his head. 'And how is it,
+Pashenka--do you take part in Church life?'
+
+'Oh, don't speak of it. I am so bad that way, and have neglected it so!
+I keep the fasts with the children and sometimes go to church, and then
+again sometimes I don't go for months. I only send the children.'
+
+'But why don't you go yourself?'
+
+'To tell the truth' (she blushed) 'I am ashamed, for my daughter's
+sake and the children's, to go there in tattered clothes, and I haven't
+anything else. Besides, I am just lazy.'
+
+'And do you pray at home?'
+
+'I do. But what sort of prayer is it? Only mechanical. I know it should
+not be like that, but I lack real religious feeling. The only thing is
+that I know how bad I am...'
+
+'Yes, yes, that's right!' said Kasatsky, as if approvingly.
+
+'I'm coming! I'm coming!' she replied to a call from her son-in-law, and
+tidying her scanty plait she left the room.
+
+But this time it was long before she returned. When she came back,
+Kasatsky was sitting in the same position, his elbows resting on his
+knees and his head bowed. But his wallet was strapped on his back.
+
+When she came in, carrying a small tin lamp without a shade, he raised
+his fine weary eyes and sighed very deeply.
+
+'I did not tell them who you are,' she began timidly. 'I only said that
+you are a pilgrim, a nobleman, and that I used to know you. Come into
+the dining-room for tea.'
+
+'No...'
+
+'Well then, I'll bring some to you here.'
+
+'No, I don't want anything. God bless you, Pashenka! I am going now. If
+you pity me, don't tell anyone that you have seen me. For the love of
+God don't tell anyone. Thank you. I would bow to your feet but I know
+it would make you feel awkward. Thank you, and forgive me for Christ's
+sake!'
+
+'Give me your blessing.'
+
+'God bless you! Forgive me for Christ's sake!'
+
+He rose, but she would not let him go until she had given him bread and
+butter and rusks. He took it all and went away.
+
+It was dark, and before he had passed the second house he was lost to
+sight. She only knew he was there because the dog at the priest's house
+was barking.
+
+'So that is what my dream meant! Pashenka is what I ought to have been
+but failed to be. I lived for men on the pretext of living for God,
+while she lived for God imagining that she lives for men. Yes, one good
+deed--a cup of water given without thought of reward--is worth more
+than any benefit I imagined I was bestowing on people. But after all was
+there not some share of sincere desire to serve God?' he asked himself,
+and the answer was: 'Yes, there was, but it was all soiled and overgrown
+by desire for human praise. Yes, there is no God for the man who lives,
+as I did, for human praise. I will now seek Him!'
+
+And he walked from village to village as he had done on his way to
+Pashenka, meeting and parting from other pilgrims, men and women, and
+asking for bread and a night's rest in Christ's name. Occasionally some
+angry housewife scolded him, or a drunken peasant reviled him, but for
+the most part he was given food and drink and even something to take
+with him. His noble bearing disposed some people in his favour, while
+others on the contrary seemed pleased at the sight of a gentleman who
+had come to beggary.
+
+But his gentleness prevailed with everyone.
+
+Often, finding a copy of the Gospels in a hut he would read it aloud,
+and when they heard him the people were always touched and surprised, as
+at something new yet familiar.
+
+When he succeeded in helping people, either by advice, or by his
+knowledge of reading and writing, or by settling some quarrel, he did
+not wait to see their gratitude but went away directly afterwards. And
+little by little God began to reveal Himself within him.
+
+Once he was walking along with two old women and a soldier. They were
+stopped by a party consisting of a lady and gentleman in a gig and
+another lady and gentleman on horseback. The husband was on horseback
+with his daughter, while in the gig his wife was driving with a
+Frenchman, evidently a traveller.
+
+The party stopped to let the Frenchman see the pilgrims who, in accord
+with a popular Russian superstition, tramped about from place to place
+instead of working.
+
+They spoke French, thinking that the others would not understand them.
+
+'Demandez-leur,' said the Frenchman, 's'ils sont bien sur de ce que leur
+pelerinage est agreable a Dieu.'
+
+The question was asked, and one old woman replied:
+
+'As God takes it. Our feet have reached the holy places, but our hearts
+may not have done so.'
+
+They asked the soldier. He said that he was alone in the world and had
+nowhere else to go.
+
+They asked Kasatsky who he was.
+
+'A servant of God.'
+
+'Qu'est-ce qu'il dit? Il ne repond pas.'
+
+'Il dit qu'il est un serviteur de Dieu. Cela doit etre un fils de
+preetre. Il a de la race. Avez-vous de la petite monnaie?'
+
+The Frenchman found some small change and gave twenty kopeks to each of
+the pilgrims.
+
+'Mais dites-leur que ce n'est pas pour les cierges que je leur donne,
+mais pour qu'ils se regalent de the. Chay, chay pour vous, mon vieux!'
+he said with a smile. And he patted Kasatsky on the shoulder with his
+gloved hand.
+
+'May Christ bless you,' replied Kasatsky without replacing his cap and
+bowing his bald head.
+
+He rejoiced particularly at this meeting, because he had disregarded the
+opinion of men and had done the simplest, easiest thing--humbly accepted
+twenty kopeks and given them to his comrade, a blind beggar. The less
+importance he attached to the opinion of men the more did he feel the
+presence of God within him.
+
+For eight months Kasatsky tramped on in this manner, and in the ninth
+month he was arrested for not having a passport. This happened at a
+night-refuge in a provincial town where he had passed the night with
+some pilgrims. He was taken to the police-station, and when asked who he
+was and where was his passport, he replied that he had no passport and
+that he was a servant of God. He was classed as a tramp, sentenced, and
+sent to live in Siberia.
+
+In Siberia he has settled down as the hired man of a well-to-do peasant,
+in which capacity he works in the kitchen-garden, teaches children, and
+attends to the sick.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Father Sergius, by Leo Tolstoy
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+**The Project Gutenberg Etext of Father Sergius by Leo Tolstoy**
+Trans. Louise and Aylmer Maude
+#3 in our series by Tolstoy/Tolstoi
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+Also one by his son, Ilya.
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+Father Sergius
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+by Leo Tolstoy
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+Trans. Louise and Aylmer Maude
+
+July, 1997  [Etext #985]
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+**The Project Gutenberg Etext of Father Sergius by Leo Tolstoy**
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+
+Father Sergius by Leo Tolstoy
+Trans. Louise and Aylmer Maude
+This etext was perpared by Judith Boss of Omaha, NE.
+
+
+
+
+
+Father Sergius
+
+
+
+I
+
+In Petersburg in the eighteen-forties a surprising event
+occurred.  An officer of the Cuirassier Life Guards, a handsome
+prince who everyone predicted would become aide-de-camp to the
+Emperor Nicholas I and have a brilliant career, left the service,
+broke off his engagement to a beautiful maid of honour, a
+favourite of the Empress's, gave his small estate to his sister,
+and retired to a monastery to become a monk.
+
+This event appeared extraordinary and inexplicable to those who
+did not know his inner motives, but for Prince Stepan Kasatsky
+himself it all occurred so naturally that he could not imagine
+how he could have acted otherwise.
+
+His father, a retired colonel of the Guards, had died when Stepan
+was twelve, and sorry as his mother was to part from her son, she
+entered him at the Military College as her deceased husband had
+intended.
+
+The widow herself, with her daughter, Varvara, moved to
+Petersburg to be near her son and have him with her for the
+holidays.
+
+The boy was distinguished both by his brilliant ability and by
+his immense self-esteem.  He was first both in his
+studies--especially in mathematics, of which he was particularly
+fond--and also in drill and in riding.  Though of more than
+average height, he was handsome and agile, and he would have been
+an altogether exemplary cadet had it not been for his quick
+temper.  He was remarkably truthful, and was neither dissipated
+nor addicted to drink. The only faults that marred his conduct
+were fits of fury to which he was subject and during which he
+lost control of himself and became like a wild animal.  He once
+nearly threw out of the window another cadet who had begun to
+tease him about his collection of minerals.  On another occasion
+he came almost completely to grief by flinging a whole dish of
+cutlets at an officer who was acting as steward, attacking him
+and, it was said, striking him for having broken his word and
+told a barefaced lie.  He would certainly have been reduced to
+the ranks had not the Director of the College hushed up the whole
+matter and dismissed the steward.
+
+By the time he was eighteen he had finished his College course
+and received a commission as lieutenant in an aristocratic
+regiment of the Guards.
+
+The Emperor Nicholas Pavlovich (Nicholas I) had noticed him while
+he was still at the College, and continued to take notice of him
+in the regiment, and it was on this account that people predicted
+for him an appointment as aide-de-camp to the Emperor.  Kasatsky
+himself strongly desired it, not from ambition only but chiefly
+because since his cadet days he had been passionately devoted to
+Nicholas Pavlovich.  The Emperor had often visited the Military
+College and every time Kasatsky saw that tall erect figure, with
+breast expanded in its military overcoat, entering with brisk
+step, saw the cropped side-whiskers, the moustache, the aquiline
+nose, and heard the sonorous voice exchanging greetings with the
+cadets, he was seized by the same rapture that he experienced
+later on when he met the woman he loved.  Indeed, his passionate
+adoration of the Emperor was even stronger: he wished to
+sacrifice something--everything, even himself--to prove his
+complete devotion.  And the Emperor Nicholas was conscious of
+evoking this rapture and deliberately aroused it.  He played with
+the cadets, surrounded himself with them, treating them sometimes
+with childish simplicity, sometimes as a friend, and then again
+with majestic solemnity.  After that affair with the officer,
+Nicholas Pavlovich said nothing to Kasatsky, but when the latter
+approached he waved him away theatrically, frowned, shook his
+finger at him, and afterwards when leaving, said: 'Remember that
+I know everything.  There are some things I would rather not
+know, but they remain here,' and he pointed to his heart.
+
+When on leaving College the cadets were received by the Emperor,
+he did not again refer to Kasatsky's offence, but told them all,
+as was his custom, that they should serve him and the fatherland
+loyally, that he would always be their best friend, and that when
+necessary they might approach him direct.  All the cadets were as
+usual greatly moved, and Kasatsky even shed tears, remembering
+the past, and vowed that he would serve his beloved Tsar with all
+his soul.
+
+When Kasatsky took up his commission his mother moved with her
+daughter first to Moscow and then to their country estate. 
+Kasatsky gave half his property to his sister and kept only
+enough to maintain himself in the expensive regiment he had
+joined.
+
+To all appearance he was just an ordinary, brilliant young
+officer of the Guards making a career for himself; but intense
+and complex strivings went on within him. From early childhood
+his efforts had seemed to be very varied, but essentially they
+were all one and the same.  He tried in everything he took up to
+attain such success and perfection as would evoke praise and
+surprise.  Whether it was his studies or his military exercises,
+he took them up and worked at them till he was praised and held
+up as an example to others.  Mastering one subject he took up
+another, and obtained first place in his studies.  For example,
+while still at College he noticed in himself an awkwardness in
+French conversation, and contrived to master French till he spoke
+it as well as Russian, and then he took up chess and became an
+excellent player.
+
+Apart from his main vocation, which was the service of his Tsar
+and the fatherland, he always set himself some particular aim,
+and however unimportant it was, devoted himself completely to it
+and lived for it until it was accomplished.  And as soon as it
+was attained another aim would immediately present itself,
+replacing its predecessor. This passion for distinguishing
+himself, or for accomplishing something in order to distinguish
+himself, filled his life.  On taking up his commission he set
+himself to acquire the utmost perfection in knowledge of the
+service, and very soon became a model officer, though still with
+the same fault of ungovernable irascibility, which here in the
+service again led him to commit actions inimical to his success. 
+Then he took to reading, having once in conversation in society
+felt himself deficient in general education--and again achieved
+his purpose.  Then, wishing to secure a brilliant position in
+high society, he learnt to dance excellently and very soon was
+invited to all the balls in the best circles, and to some of
+their evening gatherings.  But this did not satisfy him: he was
+accustomed to being first, and in this society was far from being
+so.
+
+The highest society then consisted, and I think always consist,
+of four sorts of people: rich people who are received at Court,
+people not wealthy but born and brought up in Court circles, rich
+people who ingratiate themselves into the Court set, and people
+neither rich nor belonging to the Court but who ingratiate
+themselves into the first and second sets.
+
+Kasatsky did not belong to the first two sets, but was readily
+welcomed in the others.  On entering society he determined to
+have relations with some society lady, and to his own surprise
+quickly accomplished this purpose. He soon realized, however,
+that the circles in which he moved were not the highest, and that
+though he was received in the highest spheres he did not belong
+to them. They were polite to him, but showed by their whole
+manner that they had their own set and that he was not of it. 
+And Kasatsky wished to belong to that inner circle.  To attain
+that end it would be necessary to be an aide-de-camp to the
+Emperor--which he expected to become--or to marry into that
+exclusive set, which he resolved to do.  And his choice fell on a
+beauty belonging to the Court, who not merely belonged to the
+circle into which he wished to be accepted, but whose friendship
+was coveted by the very highest people and those most firmly
+established in that highest circle.  This was Countess Korotkova. 
+Kasatsky began to pay court to her, and not merely for the sake
+of his career.  She was extremely attractive and he soon fell in
+love with her.  At first she was noticeably cool towards him, but
+then suddenly changed and became gracious, and her mother gave
+him pressing invitations to visit them.  Kasatsky proposed and
+was accepted.  He was surprised at the facility with which he
+attained such happiness.  But though he noticed something strange
+and unusual in the behaviour towards him of both mother and
+daughter, he was blinded by being so deeply in love, and did not
+realize what almost the whole town knew--namely, that his fiancee
+had been the Emperor Nicholas's mistress the previous year.
+
+Two weeks before the day arranged for the wedding, Kasatsky was
+at Tsarskoe Selo at his fiancee's country place.  It was a hot
+day in May.  He and his betrothed had walked about the garden and
+were sitting on a bench in a shady linden alley.  Mary's white
+muslin dress suited her particularly well, and she seemed the
+personification of innocence and love as she sat, now bending her
+head, now gazing up at the very tall and handsome man who was
+speaking to her with particular tenderness and self-restraint, as
+if he feared by word or gesture to offend or sully her angelic
+purity.
+
+Kasatsky belonged to those men of the eighteen-forties (they are
+now no longer to be found) who while deliberately and without any
+conscientious scruples condoning impurity in themselves, required
+ideal and angelic purity in their women, regarded all unmarried
+women of their circle as possessed of such purity, and treated
+them accordingly.  There was much that was false and harmful in
+this outlook, as concerning the laxity the men permitted
+themselves, but in regard to the women that old-fashioned view
+(sharply differing from that held by young people to-day who see
+in every girl merely a female seeking a mate) was, I think, of
+value.  The girls, perceiving such adoration, endeavoured with
+more or less success to be goddesses.
+
+Such was the view Kasatsky held of women, and that was how he
+regarded his fiancee.  He was particularly in love that day, but
+did not experience any sensual desire for her.  On the contrary
+he regarded her with tender adoration as something unattainable.
+
+He rose to his full height, standing before her with both hands
+on his sabre.
+
+'I have only now realized what happiness a man can experience! 
+And it is you, my darling, who have given me this happiness,' he
+said with a timid smile.
+
+Endearments had not yet become usual between them, and feeling
+himself morally inferior he felt terrified at this stage to use
+them to such an angel.
+
+'It is thanks to you that I have come to know myself. I have
+learnt that I am better than I thought.'
+
+'I have known that for a long time.  That was why I began to love
+you.'
+
+Nightingales trilled near by and the fresh leafage rustled, moved
+by a passing breeze.
+
+He took her hand and kissed it, and tears came into his eyes.
+
+She understood that he was thanking her for having said she loved
+him.  He silently took a few steps up and down, and then
+approached her again and sat down.
+
+'You know . . . I have to tell you . . . I was not disinterested
+when I began to make love to you.  I wanted to get into society;
+but later . . . how unimportant that became in comparison with
+you--when I got to know you. You are not angry with me for that?'
+
+She did not reply but merely touched his hand.  He understood
+that this meant: 'No, I am not angry.'
+
+'You said . . .'  He hesitated.  It seemed too bold to say.  'You
+said that you began to love me.  I believe it--but there is
+something that troubles you and checks your feeling.  What is
+it?'
+
+'Yes--now or never!' thought she.  'He is bound to know of it
+anyway.  But now he will not forsake me.  Ah, if he should, it
+would be terrible!'  And she threw a loving glance at his tall,
+noble, powerful figure.  She loved him now more than she had
+loved the Tsar, and apart from the Imperial dignity would not
+have preferred the Emperor to him.
+
+'Listen!  I cannot deceive you.  I have to tell you.  You ask
+what it is?  It is that I have loved before.'
+
+She again laid her hand on his with an imploring gesture.  He was
+silent.
+
+'You want to know who it was?  It was--the Emperor.'
+
+'We all love him.  I can imagine you, a schoolgirl at the
+Institute . . .'
+
+'No, it was later.  I was infatuated, but it passed . . . I must
+tell you . . .'
+
+'Well, what of it?'
+
+'No, it was not simply--'  She covered her face with her hands.
+
+'What?  You gave yourself to him?'
+
+She was silent.
+
+'His mistress?'
+
+She did not answer.
+
+He sprang up and stood before her with trembling jaws, pale as
+death.  He now remembered how the Emperor, meeting him on the
+Nevsky, had amiably congratulated him.
+
+'O God, what have I done!  Stiva!'
+
+'Don't touch me!  Don't touch me!  Oh, how it pains!'
+
+He turned away and went to the house.  There he met her mother.
+
+'What is the matter, Prince?  I . . .'  She became silent on
+seeing his face.  The blood had suddenly rushed to his head.
+
+'You knew it, and used me to shield them!  If you weren't a woman
+. . . !' he cried, lifting his enormous fist, and turning aside
+he ran away.
+
+Had his fiancee's lover been a private person he would have
+killed him, but it was his beloved Tsar.
+
+Next day he applied both for furlough and his discharge, and
+professing to be ill, so as to see no one, he went away to the
+country.
+
+He spent the summer at his village arranging his affairs. When
+summer was over he did not return to Petersburg, but entered a
+monastery and there became a monk.
+
+His mother wrote to try to dissuade him from this decisive step,
+but he replied that he felt God's call which transcended all
+other considerations.  Only his sister, who was as proud and
+ambitious as he, understood him.
+
+She understood that he had become a monk in order to be above
+those who considered themselves his superiors. And she understood
+him correctly.  By becoming a monk he showed contempt for all
+that seemed most important to others and had seemed so to him
+while he was in the service, and he now ascended a height from
+which he could look down on those he had formerly envied. . . .
+But it was not this alone, as his sister Varvara supposed, that
+influenced him.  There was also in him something else--a sincere
+religious feeling which Varvara did not know, which intertwined
+itself with the feeling of pride and the desire for pre-eminence,
+and guided him.  His disillusionment with Mary, whom he had
+thought of angelic purity, and his sense of injury, were so
+strong that they brought him to despair, and the despair led
+him--to what?  To God, to his childhood's faith which had never
+been destroyed in him.
+
+
+
+II
+
+Kasatsky entered the monastery on the feast of the Intercession
+of the Blessed Virgin.  The Abbot of that monastery was a
+gentleman by birth, a learned writer and a starets, that is, he
+belonged to that succession of monks originating in Walachia who
+each choose a director and teacher whom they implicitly obey. 
+This Superior had been a disciple of the starets Ambrose, who was
+a disciple of Makarius, who was a disciple of the starets Leonid,
+who was a disciple of Paussy Velichkovsky.
+
+To this Abbot Kasatsky submitted himself as to his chosen
+director.  Here in the monastery, besides the feeling of
+ascendency over others that such a life gave him, he felt much as
+he had done in the world: he found satisfaction in attaining the
+greatest possible perfection outwardly as well as inwardly.  As
+in the regiment he had been not merely an irreproachable officer
+but had even exceeded his duties and widened the borders of
+perfection, so also as a monk he tried to be perfect, and was
+always industrious, abstemious, submissive, and meek, as well as
+pure both in deed and in thought, and obedient.  This last
+quality in particular made life far easier for him.  If many of
+the demands of life in the monastery, which was near the capital
+and much frequented, did not please him and were temptations to
+him, they were all nullified by obedience: 'It is not for me to
+reason; my business is to do the task set me, whether it be
+standing beside the relics, singing in the choir, or making up
+accounts in the monastery guest-house.'  All possibility of doubt
+about anything was silenced by obedience to the starets.  Had it
+not been for this, he would have been oppressed by the length and
+monotony of the church services, the bustle of the many visitors,
+and the bad qualities of the other monks.  As it was, he not only
+bore it all joyfully but found in it solace and support.  'I
+don't know why it is necessary to hear the same prayers several
+times a day, but I know that it is necessary; and knowing this I
+find joy in them.'  His director told him that as material food
+is necessary for the maintenance of the life of the body, so
+spiritual food--the church prayers--is necessary for the
+maintenance of the spiritual life.  He believed this, and though
+the church services, for which he had to get up early in the
+morning, were a difficulty, they certainly calmed him and gave
+him joy.  This was the result of his consciousness of humility,
+and the certainty that whatever he had to do, being fixed by the
+starets, was right.
+
+The interest of his life consisted not only in an ever greater
+and greater subjugation of his will, but in the attainment of all
+the Christian virtues, which at first seemed to him easily
+attainable.  He had given his whole estate to his sister and did
+not regret it, he had no personal claims, humility towards his
+inferiors was not merely easy for him but afforded him pleasure. 
+Even victory over the sins of the flesh, greed and lust, was
+easily attained.  His director had specially warned him against
+the latter sin, but Kasatsky felt free from it and was glad.
+
+One thing only tormented him--the remembrance of his fiancee; and
+not merely the remembrance but the vivid image of what might have
+been.  Involuntarily he recalled a lady he knew who had been a
+favourite of the Emperor's, but had afterwards married and become
+an admirable wife and mother.  The husband had a high position,
+influence and honour, and a good and penitent wife.
+
+In his better hours Kasatsky was not disturbed by such thoughts,
+and when he recalled them at such times he was merely glad to
+feel that the temptation was past.  But there were moments when
+all that made up his present life suddenly grew dim before him,
+moments when, if he did not cease to believe in the aims he had
+set himself, he ceased to see them and could evoke no confidence
+in them but was seized by a remembrance of, and--terrible to
+say--a regret for, the change of life he had made.
+
+The only thing that saved him in that state of mind was obedience
+and work, and the fact that the whole day was occupied by prayer. 
+He went through the usual forms of prayer, he bowed in prayer, he
+even prayed more than usual, but it was lip-service only and his
+soul was not in it.  This condition would continue for a day, or
+sometimes for two days, and would then pass of itself.  But those
+days were dreadful.  Kasatsky felt that he was neither in his own
+hands nor in God's, but was subject to something else.  All he
+could do then was to obey the starets, to restrain himself, to
+undertake nothing, and simply to wait.  In general all this time
+he lived not by his own will but by that of the starets, and in
+this obedience he found a special tranquillity.
+
+So he lived in his first monastery for seven years.  At the end
+of the third year he received the tonsure and was ordained to the
+priesthood by the name of Sergius.  The profession was an
+important event in his inner life.  He had previously experienced
+a great consolation and spiritual exaltation when receiving
+communion, and now when he himself officiated, the performance of
+the preparation filled him with ecstatic and deep emotion.  But
+subsequently that feeling became more and more deadened, and once
+when he was officiating in a depressed state of mind he felt that
+the influence produced on him by the service would not endure. 
+And it did in fact weaken till only the habit remained.
+
+In general in the seventh year of his life in the monastery
+Sergius grew weary.  He had learnt all there was to learn and had
+attained all there was to attain, there was nothing more to do
+and his spiritual drowsiness increased.  During this time he
+heard of his mother's death and his sister Varvara's marriage,
+but both events were matters of indifference to him.  His whole
+attention and his whole interest were concentrated on his inner
+life.
+
+In the fourth year of his priesthood, during which the Bishop had
+been particularly kind to him, the starets told him that he ought
+not to decline it if he were offered an appointment to higher
+duties.  Then monastic ambition, the very thing he had found so
+repulsive in other monks, arose within him.  He was assigned to a
+monastery near the metropolis.  He wished to refuse but the
+starets ordered him to accept the appointment.  He did so, and
+took leave of the starets and moved to the other monastery.
+
+The exchange into the metropolitan monastery was an important
+event in Sergius's life.  There he encountered many temptations,
+and his whole will-power was concentrated on meeting them.
+
+In the first monastery, women had not been a temptation to him,
+but here that temptation arose with terrible strength and even
+took definite shape.  There was a lady known for her frivolous
+behaviour who began to seek his favour. She talked to him and
+asked him to visit her.  Sergius sternly declined, but was
+horrified by the definiteness of his desire.  He was so alarmed
+that he wrote about it to the starets.  And in addition, to keep
+himself in hand, he spoke to a young novice and, conquering his
+sense of shame, confessed his weakness to him, asking him to keep
+watch on him and not let him go anywhere except to service and to
+fulfil his duties.
+
+Besides this, a great pitfall for Sergius lay in the fact of his
+extreme antipathy to his new Abbot, a cunning worldly man who was
+making a career for himself in the Church.  Struggle with himself
+as he might, he could not master that feeling.  He was submissive
+to the Abbot, but in the depths of his soul he never ceased to
+condemn him. And in the second year of his residence at the new
+monastery that ill-feeling broke out.
+
+The Vigil service was being performed in the large church on the
+eve of the feast of the Intercession of the Blessed Virgin, and
+there were many visitors.  The Abbot himself was conducting the
+service.  Father Sergius was standing in his usual place and
+praying: that is, he was in that condition of struggle which
+always occupied him during the service, especially in the large
+church when he was not himself conducting the service.  This
+conflict was occasioned by his irritation at the presence of fine
+folk, especially ladies.  He tried not to see them or to notice
+all that went on: how a soldier conducted them, pushing the
+common people aside, how the ladies pointed out the monks to one
+another--especially himself and a monk noted for his good looks. 
+He tried as it were to keep his mind in blinkers, to see nothing
+but the light of the candles on the altar-screen, the icons, and
+those conducting the service.  He tried to hear nothing but the
+prayers that were being chanted or read, to feel nothing but
+self-oblivion in consciousness of the fulfilment of duty--a
+feeling he always experienced when hearing or reciting in advance
+the prayers he had so often heard.
+
+So he stood, crossing and prostrating himself when necessary, and
+struggled with himself, now giving way to cold condemnation and
+now to a consciously evoked obliteration of thought and feeling. 
+Then the sacristan, Father Nicodemus--also a great
+stumbling-block to Sergius who involuntarily reproached him for
+flattering and fawning on the Abbot--approached him and, bowing
+low, requested his presence behind the holy gates.  Father
+Sergius straightened his mantle, put on his biretta, and went
+circumspectly through the crowd.
+
+'Lise, regarde a droite, c'est lui!' he heard a woman's voice
+say.
+
+'Ou, ou?  Il n'est pas tellement beau.'
+
+He knew that they were speaking of him.  He heard them and, as
+always at moments of temptation, he repeated the words, 'Lead us
+not into temptation,' and bowing his head and lowering his eyes
+went past the ambo and in by the north door, avoiding the canons
+in their cassocks who were just then passing the altar-screen. On
+entering the sanctuary he bowed, crossing himself as usual and
+bending double before the icons.  Then, raising his head but
+without turning, he glanced out of the corner of his eye at the
+Abbot, whom he saw standing beside another glittering figure.
+
+The Abbot was standing by the wall in his vestments. Having freed
+his short plump hands from beneath his chasuble he had folded
+them over his fat body and protruding stomach, and fingering the
+cords of his vestments was smilingly saying something to a
+military man in the uniform of a general of the Imperial suite,
+with its insignia and shoulder-knots which Father Sergius's
+experienced eye at once recognized.  This general had been the
+commander of the regiment in which Sergius had served.  He now
+evidently occupied an important position, and Father Sergius at
+once noticed that the Abbot was aware of this and that his red
+face and bald head beamed with satisfaction and pleasure.  This
+vexed and disgusted Father Sergius, the more so when he heard
+that the Abbot had only sent for him to satisfy the general's
+curiosity to see a man who had formerly served with him, as he
+expressed it.
+
+'Very pleased to see you in your angelic guise,' said the
+general, holding out his hand.  'I hope you have not forgotten an
+old comrade.'
+
+The whole thing--the Abbot's red, smiling face amid its fringe of
+grey, the general's words, his well-cared-for face with its
+self-satisfied smile and the smell of wine from his breath and of
+cigars from his whiskers--revolted Father Sergius.  He bowed
+again to the Abbot and said:
+
+'Your reverence deigned to send for me?'--and stopped, the whole
+expression of his face and eyes asking why.
+
+'Yes, to meet the General,' replied the Abbot.
+
+'Your reverence, I left the world to save myself from
+temptation,' said Father Sergius, turning pale and with quivering
+lips.  'Why do you expose me to it during prayers and in God's
+house?'
+
+'You may go!  Go!' said the Abbot, flaring up and frowning.
+
+Next day Father Sergius asked pardon of the Abbot and of the
+brethren for his pride, but at the same time, after a night spent
+in prayer, he decided that he must leave this monastery, and he
+wrote to the starets begging permission to return to him.  He
+wrote that he felt his weakness and incapacity to struggle
+against temptation without his help and penitently confessed his
+sin of pride. By return of post came a letter from the starets,
+who wrote that Sergius's pride was the cause of all that had
+happened.  The old man pointed out that his fits of anger were
+due to the fact that in refusing all clerical honours he
+humiliated himself not for the sake of God but for the sake of
+his pride.  'There now, am I not a splendid man not to want
+anything?'  That was why he could not tolerate the Abbot's
+action.  'I have renounced everything for the glory of God, and
+here I am exhibited like a wild beast!'  'Had you renounced
+vanity for God's sake you would have borne it.  Worldly pride is
+not yet dead in you.  I have thought about you, Sergius my son,
+and prayed also, and this is what God has suggested to me.  At
+the Tambov hermitage the anchorite Hilary, a man of saintly life,
+has died.  He had lived there eighteen years.  The Tambov Abbot
+is asking whether there is not a brother who would take his
+place.  And here comes your letter.  Go to Father Paissy of the
+Tambov Monastery.  I will write to him about you, and you must
+ask for Hilary's cell.  Not that you can replace Hilary, but you
+need solitude to quell your pride.  May God bless you!'
+
+Sergius obeyed the starets, showed his letter to the Abbot, and
+having obtained his permission, gave up his cell, handed all his
+possessions over to the monastery, and set out for the Tambov
+hermitage.
+
+There the Abbot, an excellent manager of merchant origin,
+received Sergius simply and quietly and placed him in Hilary's
+cell, at first assigning to him a lay brother but afterwards
+leaving him alone, at Sergius's own request. The cell was a dual
+cave, dug into the hillside, and in it Hilary had been buried. 
+In the back part was Hilary's grave, while in the front was a
+niche for sleeping, with a straw mattress, a small table, and a
+shelf with icons and books.  Outside the outer door, which
+fastened with a hook, was another shelf on which, once a day, a
+monk placed food from the monastery.
+
+And so Sergius became a hermit.
+
+III
+
+At Carnival time, in the sixth year of Sergius's life at the
+hermitage, a merry company of rich people, men and women from a
+neighbouring town, made up a troyka-party, after a meal of
+carnival-pancakes and wine.  The company consisted of two
+lawyers, a wealthy landowner, an officer, and four ladies.  One
+lady was the officer's wife, another the wife of the landowner,
+the third his sister--a young girl--and the fourth a divorcee,
+beautiful, rich, and eccentric, who amazed and shocked the town
+by her escapades.
+
+The weather was excellent and the snow-covered road smooth as a
+floor.  They drove some seven miles out of town, and then stopped
+and consulted as to whether they should turn back or drive
+farther.
+
+'But where does this road lead to?' asked Makovkina, the
+beautiful divorcee.
+
+'To Tambov, eight miles from here,' replied one of the lawyers,
+who was having a flirtation with her.
+
+'And then where?'
+
+'Then on to L----, past the Monastery.'
+
+'Where that Father Sergius lives?'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'Kasatsky, the handsome hermit?'
+
+'Yes.'
+
+'Mesdames et messieurs, let us drive on and see Kasatsky!  We can
+stop at Tambov and have something to eat.'
+
+'But we shouldn't get home to-night!'
+
+'Never mind, we will stay at Kasatsky's.'
+
+'Well, there is a very good hostelry at the Monastery. I stayed
+there when I was defending Makhin.'
+
+'No, I shall spend the night at Kasatsky's!'
+
+'Impossible!  Even your omnipotence could not accomplish that!'
+
+'Impossible?  Will you bet?'
+
+'All right!  If you spend the night with him, the stake shall be
+whatever you like.'
+
+'A DISCRETION!'
+
+'But on your side too!'
+
+'Yes, of course.  Let us drive on.'
+
+Vodka was handed to the drivers, and the party got out a box of
+pies, wine, and sweets for themselves.  The ladies wrapped up in
+their white dogskins.  The drivers disputed as to whose troyka
+should go ahead, and the youngest, seating himself sideways with
+a dashing air, swung his long knout and shouted to the horses. 
+The troyka-bells tinkled and the sledge-runners squeaked over the
+snow.
+
+The sledge swayed hardly at all.  The shaft-horse, with his
+tightly bound tail under his decorated breechband, galloped
+smoothly and briskly; the smooth road seemed to run rapidly
+backwards, while the driver dashingly shook the reins.  One of
+the lawyers and the officer sitting opposite talked nonsense to
+Makovkina's neighbour, but Makovkina herself sat motionless and
+in thought, tightly wrapped in her fur.  'Always the same and
+always nasty! The same red shiny faces smelling of wine and
+cigars! The same talk, the same thoughts, and always about the
+same things!  And they are all satisfied and confident that it
+should be so, and will go on living like that till they die.  But
+I can't.  It bores me.  I want something that would upset it all
+and turn it upside down.  Suppose it happened to us as to those
+people--at Saratov was it?--who kept on driving and froze to
+death. . . .  What would our people do?  How would they behave? 
+Basely, for certain.  Each for himself.  And I too should act
+badly.  But I at any rate have beauty.  They all know it.  And
+how about that monk? Is it possible that he has become
+indifferent to it?  No! That is the one thing they all care
+for--like that cadet last autumn.  What a fool he was!'
+
+'Ivan Nikolaevich!' she said aloud.
+
+'What are your commands?'
+
+'How old is he?'
+
+'Who?'
+
+'Kasatsky.'
+
+'Over forty, I should think.'
+
+'And does he receive all visitors?'
+
+'Yes, everybody, but not always.'
+
+'Cover up my feet.  Not like that--how clumsy you are! No!  More,
+more--like that!  But you need not squeeze them!'
+
+So they came to the forest where the cell was.
+
+Makovkina got out of the sledge, and told them to drive on.  They
+tried to dissuade her, but she grew irritable and ordered them to
+go on.
+
+When the sledges had gone she went up the path in her white
+dogskin coat.  The lawyer got out and stopped to watch her.
+
+It was Father Sergius's sixth year as a recluse, and he was now
+forty-nine.  His life in solitude was hard--not on account of the
+fasts and the prayers (they were no hardship to him) but on
+account of an inner conflict he had not at all anticipated.  The
+sources of that conflict were two: doubts, and the lust of the
+flesh.  And these two enemies always appeared together.  It
+seemed to him that they were two foes, but in reality they were
+one and the same.  As soon as doubt was gone so was the lustful
+desire.  But thinking them to be two different fiends he fought
+them separately.
+
+'O my God, my God!' thought he.  'Why dost thou not grant me
+faith?  There is lust, of course: even the saints had to fight
+that--Saint Anthony and others.  But they had faith, while I have
+moments, hours, and days, when it is absent.  Why does the whole
+world, with all its delights, exist if it is sinful and must be
+renounced?  Why hast Thou created this temptation?  Temptation? 
+Is it not rather a temptation that I wish to abandon all the joys
+of earth and prepare something for myself there where perhaps
+there is nothing?'  And he became horrified and filled with
+disgust at himself.  'Vile creature!  And it is you who wish to
+become a saint!' he upbraided himself, and he began to pray.  But
+as soon as he started to pray he saw himself vividly as he had
+been at the Monastery, in a majestic post in biretta and mantle,
+and he shook his head.  'No, that is not right.  It is deception. 
+I may deceive others, but not myself or God.  I am not a majestic
+man, but a pitiable and ridiculous one!'  And he threw back the
+folds of his cassock and smiled as he looked at his thin legs in
+their underclothing.
+
+Then he dropped the folds of the cassock again and began reading
+the prayers, making the sign of the cross and prostrating
+himself.  'Can it be that this couch will be my bier?' he read. 
+And it seemed as if a devil whispered to him: 'A solitary couch
+is itself a bier.  Falsehood!'  And in imagination he saw the
+shoulders of a widow with whom he had lived.  He shook himself,
+and went on reading. Having read the precepts he took up the
+Gospels, opened the book, and happened on a passage he often
+repeated and knew by heart: 'Lord, I believe.  Help thou my
+unbelief!'--and he put away all the doubts that had arisen. As
+one replaces an object of insecure equilibrium, so he carefully
+replaced his belief on its shaky pedestal and carefully stepped
+back from it so as not to shake or upset it.  The blinkers were
+adjusted again and he felt tranquillized, and repeating his
+childhood's prayer: 'Lord, receive me, receive me!' he felt not
+merely at ease, but thrilled and joyful.  He crossed himself and
+lay down on the bedding on his narrow bench, tucking his summer
+cassock under his head.  He fell asleep at once, and in his light
+slumber he seemed to hear the tinkling of sledge bells.  He did
+not know whether he was dreaming or awake, but a knock at the
+door aroused him.  He sat up, distrusting his senses, but the
+knock was repeated.  Yes, it was a knock close at hand, at his
+door, and with it the sound of a woman's voice.
+
+'My God!  Can it be true, as I have read in the Lives of the
+Saints, that the devil takes on the form of a woman?  Yes--it is
+a woman's voice.  And a tender, timid, pleasant voice.  Phui!' 
+And he spat to exorcise the devil.  'No, it was only my
+imagination,' he assured himself, and he went to the corner where
+his lectern stood, falling on his knees in the regular and
+habitual manner which of itself gave him consolation and
+satisfaction.  He sank down, his hair hanging over his face, and
+pressed his head, already going bald in front, to the cold damp
+strip of drugget on the draughty floor.  He read the psalm old
+Father Pimon had told him warded off temptation.  He easily
+raised his light and emaciated body on his strong sinewy legs and
+tried to continue saying his prayers, but instead of doing so he
+involuntarily strained his hearing.  He wished to hear more.  All
+was quiet.  From the corner of the roof regular drops continued
+to fall into the tub below.  Outside was a mist and fog eating
+into the snow that lay on the ground. It was still, very still. 
+And suddenly there was a rustling at the window and a voice--that
+same tender, timid voice, which could only belong to an
+attractive woman--said:
+
+'Let me in, for Christ's sake!'
+
+It seemed as though his blood had all rushed to his heart and
+settled there.  He could hardly breathe.  'Let God arise and let
+his enemies be scattered . . .'
+
+'But I am not a devil!'  It was obvious that the lips that
+uttered this were smiling.  'I am not a devil, but only a sinful
+woman who has lost her way, not figuratively but literally!'  She
+laughed.  'I am frozen and beg for shelter.'
+
+He pressed his face to the window, but the little icon-lamp was
+reflected by it and shone on the whole pane.  He put his hands to
+both sides of his face and peered between them.  Fog, mist, a
+tree, and--just opposite him--she herself.  Yes, there, a few
+inches from him, was the sweet, kindly frightened face of a woman
+in a cap and a coat of long white fur, leaning towards him. 
+Their eyes met with instant recognition: not that they had ever
+known one another, they had never met before, but by the look
+they exchanged they--and he particularly--felt that they knew and
+understood one another.  After that glance to imagine her to be a
+devil and not a simple, kindly, sweet, timid woman, was
+impossible.
+
+'Who are you?  Why have you come?' he asked.
+
+'Do please open the door!' she replied, with capricious
+authority.  'I am frozen.  I tell you I have lost my way.'
+
+'But I am a monk--a hermit.'
+
+'Oh, do please open the door--or do you wish me to freeze under
+your window while you say your prayers?'
+
+'But how have you . . .'
+
+'I shan't eat you.  For God's sake let me in!  I am quite
+frozen.'
+
+She really did feel afraid, and said this in an almost tearful
+voice.
+
+He stepped back from the window and looked at an icon of the
+Saviour in His crown of thorns.  'Lord, help me!  Lord, help me!'
+he exclaimed, crossing himself and bowing low.  Then he went to
+the door, and opening it into the tiny porch, felt for the hook
+that fastened the outer door and began to lift it.  He heard
+steps outside.  She was coming from the window to the door. 
+'Ah!' she suddenly exclaimed, and he understood that she had
+stepped into the puddle that the dripping from the roof had
+formed at the threshold.  His hands trembled, and he could not
+raise the hook of the tightly closed door.
+
+'Oh, what are you doing?  Let me in!  I am all wet.  I am frozen! 
+You are thinking about saving your soul and are letting me freeze
+to death . . .'
+
+He jerked the door towards him, raised the hook, and without
+considering what he was doing, pushed it open with such force
+that it struck her.
+
+'Oh--PARDON!' he suddenly exclaimed, reverting completely to his
+old manner with ladies.
+
+She smiled on hearing that PARDON.  'He is not quite so terrible,
+after all,' she thought.  'It's all right.  It is you who must
+pardon me,' she said, stepping past him.  'I should never have
+ventured, but such an extraordinary circumstance . . .'
+
+'If you please!' he uttered, and stood aside to let her pass him. 
+A strong smell of fine scent, which he had long not encountered,
+struck him.  She went through the little porch into the cell
+where he lived.  He closed the outer door without fastening the
+hook, and stepped in after her.
+
+'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner!  Lord,
+have mercy on me a sinner!' he prayed unceasingly, not merely to
+himself but involuntarily moving his lips.  'If you please!' he
+said to her again.  She stood in the middle of the room, moisture
+dripping from her to the floor as she looked him over.  Her eyes
+were laughing.
+
+'Forgive me for having disturbed your solitude.  But you see what
+a position I am in.  It all came about from our starting from
+town for a sledge-drive, and my making a bet that I would walk
+back by myself from the Vorobevka to the town.  But then I lost
+my way, and if I had not happened to come upon your cell . . .' 
+She began lying, but his face confused her so that she could not
+continue, but became silent.  She had not expected him to be at
+all such as he was.  He was not as handsome as she had imagined,
+but was nevertheless beautiful in her eyes: his greyish hair and
+beard, slightly curling, his fine, regular nose, and his eyes
+like glowing coal when he looked at her, made a strong impression
+on her.
+
+He saw that she was lying.
+
+'Yes . . . so,' said he, looking at her and again lowering his
+eyes.  'I will go in there, and this place is at your disposal.'
+
+And taking down the little lamp, he lit a candle, and bowing low
+to her went into the small cell beyond the partition, and she
+heard him begin to move something about there.  'Probably he is
+barricading himself in from me!' she thought with a smile, and
+throwing off her white dogskin cloak she tried to take off her
+cap, which had become entangled in her hair and in the woven
+kerchief she was wearing under it.  She had not got at all wet
+when standing under the window, and had said so only as a pretext
+to get him to let her in.  But she really had stepped into the
+puddle at the door, and her left foot was wet up to the ankle and
+her overshoe full of water.  She sat down on his bed--a bench
+only covered by a bit of carpet--and began to take off her boots. 
+The little cell seemed to her charming.  The narrow little room,
+some seven feet by nine, was as clean as glass.  There was
+nothing in it but the bench on which she was sitting, the
+book-shelf above it, and a lectern in the corner.  A sheepskin
+coat and a cassock hung on nails by the door.  Above the lectern
+was the little lamp and an icon of Christ in His crown of thorns. 
+The room smelt strangely of perspiration and of earth.  It all
+pleased her--even that smell.  Her wet feet, especially one of
+them, were uncomfortable, and she quickly began to take off her
+boots and stockings without ceasing to smile, pleased not so much
+at having achieved her object as because she perceived that she
+had abashed that charming, strange, striking, and attractive man. 
+'He did not respond, but what of that?' she said to herself.
+
+'Father Sergius!  Father Sergius!  Or how does one call you?'
+
+'What do you want?' replied a quiet voice.
+
+'Please forgive me for disturbing your solitude, but really I
+could not help it.  I should simply have fallen ill. And I don't
+know that I shan't now.  I am all wet and my feet are like ice.'
+
+'Pardon me,' replied the quiet voice.  'I cannot be of any
+assistance to you.'
+
+'I would not have disturbed you if I could have helped it.  I am
+only here till daybreak.'
+
+He did not reply and she heard him muttering something, probably
+his prayers.
+
+'You will not be coming in here?' she asked, smiling. 'For I must
+undress to dry myself.'
+
+He did not reply, but continued to read his prayers.
+
+'Yes, that is a man!' thought she, getting her dripping boot off
+with difficulty.  She tugged at it, but could not get it off. 
+The absurdity of it struck her and she began to laugh almost
+inaudibly.  But knowing that he would hear her laughter and would
+be moved by it just as she wished him to be, she laughed louder,
+and her laughter--gay, natural, and kindly--really acted on him
+just in the way she wished.
+
+'Yes, I could love a man like that--such eyes and such a simple
+noble face, and passionate too despite all the prayers he
+mutters!' thought she.  'You can't deceive a woman in these
+things.  As soon as he put his face to the window and saw me, he
+understood and knew.  The glimmer of it was in his eyes and
+remained there.  He began to love me and desired me. 
+Yes--desired!' said she, getting her overshoe and her boot off at
+last and starting to take off her stockings.  To remove those
+long stockings fastened with elastic it was necessary to raise
+her skirts.  She felt embarrassed and said:
+
+'Don't come in!'
+
+But there was no reply from the other side of the wall. The
+steady muttering continued and also a sound of moving.
+
+'He is prostrating himself to the ground, no doubt,' thought she. 
+'But he won't bow himself out of it.  He is thinking of me just
+as I am thinking of him.  He is thinking of these feet of mine
+with the same feeling that I have!'  And she pulled off her wet
+stockings and put her feet up on the bench, pressing them under
+her.  She sat a while like that with her arms round her knees and
+looking pensively before her.  'But it is a desert, here in this
+silence. No one would ever know. . . .'
+
+She rose, took her stockings over to the stove, and hung them on
+the damper.  It was a queer damper, and she turned it about, and
+then, stepping lightly on her bare feet, returned to the bench
+and sat down there again with her feet up.
+
+There was complete silence on the other side of the partition. 
+She looked at the tiny watch that hung round her neck.  It was
+two o'clock.  'Our party should return about three!'  She had not
+more than an hour before her. 'Well, am I to sit like this all
+alone?  What nonsense!  I don't want to.  I will call him at
+once.'
+
+'Father Sergius, Father Sergius!  Sergey Dmitrich!  Prince
+Kasatsky!'
+
+Beyond the partition all was silent.
+
+'Listen!  This is cruel.  I would not call you if it were not
+necessary.  I am ill.  I don't know what is the matter with me!'
+she exclaimed in a tone of suffering.  'Oh!  Oh!' she groaned,
+falling back on the bench.  And strange to say she really felt
+that her strength was failing, that she was becoming faint, that
+everything in her ached, and that she was shivering with fever.
+
+'Listen!  Help me!  I don't know what is the matter with me.  Oh! 
+Oh!'  She unfastened her dress, exposing her breast, and lifted
+her arms, bare to the elbow.  'Oh!  Oh!'
+
+All this time he stood on the other side of the partition and
+prayed.  Having finished all the evening prayers, he now stood
+motionless, his eyes looking at the end of his nose, and mentally
+repeated with all his soul: 'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have
+mercy upon me!'
+
+But he had heard everything.  He had heard how the silk rustled
+when she took off her dress, how she stepped with bare feet on
+the floor, and had heard how she rubbed her feet with her hand. 
+He felt his own weakness, and that he might be lost at any
+moment.  That was why he prayed unceasingly.  He felt rather as
+the hero in the fairy-tale must have felt when he had to go on
+and on without looking round.  So Sergius heard and felt that
+danger and destruction were there, hovering above and around him,
+and that he could only save himself by not looking in that
+direction for an instant.  But suddenly the desire to look seized
+him.  At the same instant she said:
+
+'This is inhuman.  I may die. . . .'
+
+'Yes, I will go to her, but like the Saint who laid one hand on
+the adulteress and thrust his other into the brazier.  But there
+is no brazier here.'  He looked round.  The lamp!  He put his
+finger over the flame and frowned, preparing himself to suffer. 
+And for a rather long time, as it seemed to him, there was no
+sensation, but suddenly--he had not yet decided whether it was
+painful enough--he writhed all over, jerked his hand away, and
+waved it in the air.  'No, I can't stand that!'
+
+'For God's sake come to me!  I am dying!  Oh!'
+
+'Well--shall I perish?  No, not so!'
+
+'I will come to you directly,' he said, and having opened his
+door, he went without looking at her through the cell into the
+porch where he used to chop wood.  There he felt for the block
+and for an axe which leant against the wall.
+
+'Immediately!' he said, and taking up the axe with his right hand
+he laid the forefinger of his left hand on the block, swung the
+axe, and struck with it below the second joint.  The finger flew
+off more lightly than a stick of similar thickness, and bounding
+up, turned over on the edge of the block and then fell to the
+floor.
+
+He heard it fall before he felt any pain, but before he had time
+to be surprised he felt a burning pain and the warmth of flowing
+blood.  He hastily wrapped the stump in the skirt of his cassock,
+and pressing it to his hip went back into the room, and standing
+in front of the woman, lowered his eyes and asked in a low voice:
+'What do you want?'
+
+She looked at his pale face and his quivering left cheek, and
+suddenly felt ashamed.  She jumped up, seized her fur cloak, and
+throwing it round her shoulders, wrapped herself up in it.
+
+'I was in pain . . . I have caught cold . . . I . . . Father
+Sergius . . . I . . .'
+
+He let his eyes, shining with a quiet light of joy, rest upon
+her, and said:
+
+'Dear sister, why did you wish to ruin your immortal soul? 
+Temptations must come into the world, but woe to him by whom
+temptation comes.  Pray that God may forgive us!'
+
+She listened and looked at him.  Suddenly she heard the sound of
+something dripping.  She looked down and saw that blood was
+flowing from his hand and down his cassock.
+
+'What have you done to your hand?'  She remembered the sound she
+had heard, and seizing the little lamp ran out into the porch. 
+There on the floor she saw the bloody finger.  She returned with
+her face paler than his and was about to speak to him, but he
+silently passed into the back cell and fastened the door.
+
+'Forgive me!' she said.  'How can I atone for my sin?'
+
+'Go away.'
+
+'Let me tie up your hand.'
+
+'Go away from here.'
+
+She dressed hurriedly and silently, and when ready sat waiting in
+her furs.  The sledge-bells were heard outside.
+
+'Father Sergius, forgive me!'
+
+'Go away.  God will forgive.'
+
+'Father Sergius!  I will change my life.  Do not forsake me!'
+
+'Go away.'
+
+'Forgive me--and give me your blessing!'
+
+'In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy
+Ghost!'--she heard his voice from behind the partition.  'Go!'
+
+She burst into sobs and left the cell.  The lawyer came forward
+to meet her.
+
+'Well, I see I have lost the bet.  It can't be helped. Where will
+you sit?'
+
+'It is all the same to me.'
+
+She took a seat in the sledge, and did not utter a word all the
+way home.
+
+A year later she entered a convent as a novice, and lived a
+strict life under the direction of the hermit Arseny, who wrote
+letters to her at long intervals.
+
+
+
+IV
+
+Father Sergius lived as a recluse for another seven years.
+
+At first he accepted much of what people brought him--tea, sugar,
+white bread, milk, clothing, and fire-wood. But as time went on
+he led a more and more austere life, refusing everything
+superfluous, and finally he accepted nothing but rye-bread once a
+week.  Everything else that was brought to him he gave to the
+poor who came to him. He spent his entire time in his cell, in
+prayer or in conversation with callers, who became more and more
+numerous as time went on.  Only three times a year did he go out
+to church, and when necessary he went out to fetch water and
+wood.
+
+The episode with Makovkina had occurred after five years of his
+hermit life.  That occurrence soon became generally known--her
+nocturnal visit, the change she underwent, and her entry into a
+convent.  From that time Father Sergius's fame increased.  More
+and more visitors came to see him, other monks settled down near
+his cell, and a church was erected there and also a hostelry. 
+His fame, as usual exaggerating his feats, spread ever more and
+more widely.  People began to come to him from a distance, and
+began bringing invalids to him whom they declared he cured.
+
+His first cure occurred in the eighth year of his life as a
+hermit.  It was the healing of a fourteen-year-old boy, whose
+mother brought him to Father Sergius insisting that he should lay
+his hand on the child's head.  It had never occurred to Father
+Sergius that he could cure the sick. He would have regarded such
+a thought as a great sin of pride; but the mother who brought the
+boy implored him insistently, falling at his feet and saying:
+'Why do you, who heal others, refuse to help my son?'  She
+besought him in Christ's name.  When Father Sergius assured her
+that only God could heal the sick, she replied that she only
+wanted him to lay his hands on the boy and pray for him.  Father
+Sergius refused and returned to his cell.  But next day (it was
+in autumn and the nights were already cold) on going out for
+water he saw the same mother with her son, a pale boy of
+fourteen, and was met by the same petition.
+
+He remembered the parable of the unjust judge, and though he had
+previously felt sure that he ought to refuse, he now began to
+hesitate and, having hesitated, took to prayer and prayed until a
+decision formed itself in his soul.  This decision was, that he
+ought to accede to the woman's request and that her faith might
+save her son. As for himself, he would in this case be but an
+insignificant instrument chosen by God.
+
+And going out to the mother he did what she asked--laid his hand
+on the boy's head and prayed.
+
+The mother left with her son, and a month later the boy
+recovered, and the fame of the holy healing power of the starets
+Sergius (as they now called him) spread throughout the whole
+district.  After that, not a week passed without sick people
+coming, riding or on foot, to Father Sergius; and having acceded
+to one petition he could not refuse others, and he laid his hands
+on many and prayed.  Many recovered, and his fame spread more and
+more.
+
+So seven years passed in the Monastery and thirteen in his
+hermit's cell.  He now had the appearance of an old man: his
+beard was long and grey, but his hair, though thin, was still
+black and curly.
+
+
+
+V
+
+For some weeks Father Sergius had been living with one persistent
+thought: whether he was right in accepting the position in which
+he had not so much placed himself as been placed by the
+Archimandrite and the Abbot.  That position had begun after the
+recovery of the fourteen-year-old boy.  From that time, with each
+month, week, and day that passed, Sergius felt his own inner life
+wasting away and being replaced by external life.  It was as if
+he had been turned inside out.
+
+Sergius saw that he was a means of attracting visitors and
+contributions to the monastery, and that therefore the
+authorities arranged matters in such a way as to make as much use
+of him as possible.  For instance, they rendered it impossible
+for him to do any manual work.  He was supplied with everything
+he could want, and they only demanded of him that he should not
+refuse his blessing to those who came to seek it.  For his
+convenience they appointed days when he would receive.  They
+arranged a reception-room for men, and a place was railed in so
+that he should not be pushed over by the crowds of women
+visitors, and so that he could conveniently bless those who came.
+
+They told him that people needed him, and that fulfilling
+Christ's law of love he could not refuse their demand to see him,
+and that to avoid them would be cruel.  He could not but agree
+with this, but the more he gave himself up to such a life the
+more he felt that what was internal became external, and that the
+fount of living water within him dried up, and that what he did
+now was done more and more for men and less and less for God.
+
+Whether he admonished people, or simply blessed them, or prayed
+for the sick, or advised people about their lives, or listened to
+expressions of gratitude from those he had helped by precepts, or
+alms, or healing (as they assured him)--he could not help being
+pleased at it, and could not be indifferent to the results of his
+activity and to the influence he exerted.  He thought himself a
+shining light, and the more he felt this the more was he
+conscious of a weakening, a dying down of the divine light of
+truth that shone within him.
+
+'In how far is what I do for God and in how far is it for men?' 
+That was the question that insistently tormented him and to which
+he was not so much unable to give himself an answer as unable to
+face the answer.
+
+In the depth of his soul he felt that the devil had substituted
+an activity for men in place of his former activity for God.  He
+felt this because, just as it had formerly been hard for him to
+be torn from his solitude so now that solitude itself was hard
+for him.  He was oppressed and wearied by visitors, but at the
+bottom of his heart he was glad of their presence and glad of the
+praise they heaped upon him.
+
+There was a time when he decided to go away and hide. He even
+planned all that was necessary for that purpose. He prepared for
+himself a peasant's shirt, trousers, coat, and cap.  He explained
+that he wanted these to give to those who asked.  And he kept
+these clothes in his cell, planning how he would put them on, cut
+his hair short, and go away.  First he would go some three
+hundred versts by train, then he would leave the train and walk
+from village to village.  He asked an old man who had been a
+soldier how he tramped: what people gave him, and what shelter
+they allowed him.  The soldier told him where people were most
+charitable, and where they would take a wanderer in for the
+night, and Father Sergius intended to avail himself of this
+information.  He even put on those clothes one night in his
+desire to go, but he could not decide what was best--to remain or
+to escape.  At first he was in doubt, but afterwards this
+indecision passed.  He submitted to custom and yielded to the
+devil, and only the peasant garb reminded him of the thought and
+feeling he had had.
+
+Every day more and more people flocked to him and less and less
+time was left him for prayer and for renewing his spiritual
+strength.  Sometimes in lucid moments he thought he was like a
+place where there had once been a spring.  'There used to be a
+feeble spring of living water which flowed quietly from me and
+through me.  That was true life, the time when she tempted me!' 
+(He always thought with ecstasy of that night and of her who was
+now Mother Agnes.)  She had tasted of that pure water, but since
+then there had not been time for it to collect before thirsty
+people came crowding in and pushing one another aside.  And they
+had trampled everything down and nothing was left but mud.
+
+So he thought in rare moments of lucidity, but his usual state of
+mind was one of weariness and a tender pity for himself because
+of that weariness.
+
+It was in spring, on the eve of the mid-Pentecostal feast. 
+Father Sergius was officiating at the Vigil Service in his
+hermitage church, where the congregation was as large as the
+little church could hold--about twenty people. They were all
+well-to-do proprietors or merchants.  Father Sergius admitted
+anyone, but a selection was made by the monk in attendance and by
+an assistant who was sent to the hermitage every day from the
+monastery.  A crowd of some eighty people--pilgrims and peasants,
+and especially peasant-women--stood outside waiting for Father
+Sergius to come out and bless them.  Meanwhile he conducted the
+service, but at the point at which he went out to the tomb of his
+predecessor, he staggered and would have fallen had he not been
+caught by a merchant standing behind him and by the monk acting
+as deacon.
+
+'What is the matter, Father Sergius?  Dear man!  O Lord!'
+exclaimed the women.  'He is as white as a sheet!'
+
+But Father Sergius recovered immediately, and though very pale,
+he waved the merchant and the deacon aside and continued to chant
+the service.
+
+Father Seraphim, the deacon, the acolytes, and Sofya Ivanovna, a
+lady who always lived near the hermitage and tended Father
+Sergius, begged him to bring the service to an end.
+
+'No, there's nothing the matter,' said Father Sergius, slightly
+smiling from beneath his moustache and continuing the service. 
+'Yes, that is the way the Saints behave!' thought he.
+
+'A holy man--an angel of God!' he heard just then the voice of
+Sofya Ivanovna behind him, and also of the merchant who had
+supported him.  He did not heed their entreaties, but went on
+with the service.  Again crowding together they all made their
+way by the narrow passages back into the little church, and
+there, though abbreviating it slightly, Father Sergius completed
+vespers.
+
+Immediately after the service Father Sergius, having pronounced
+the benediction on those present, went over to the bench under
+the elm tree at the entrance to the cave.  He wished to rest and
+breathe the fresh air--he felt in need of it.  But as soon as he
+left the church the crowd of people rushed to him soliciting his
+blessing, his advice, and his help.  There were pilgrims who
+constantly tramped from one holy place to another and from one
+starets to another, and were always entranced by every shrine and
+every starets.  Father Sergius knew this common, cold,
+conventional, and most irreligious type.  There were pilgrims,
+for the most part discharged soldiers, unaccustomed to a settled
+life, poverty-stricken, and many of them drunken old men, who
+tramped from monastery to monastery merely to be fed.  And there
+were rough peasants and peasant-women who had come with their
+selfish requirements, seeking cures or to have doubts about quite
+practical affairs solved for them: about marrying off a daughter,
+or hiring a shop, or buying a bit of land, or how to atone for
+having overlaid a child or having an illegitimate one.
+
+All this was an old story and not in the least interesting to
+him.  He knew he would hear nothing new from these folk, that
+they would arouse no religious emotion in him; but he liked to
+see the crowd to which his blessing and advice was necessary and
+precious, so while that crowd oppressed him it also pleased him. 
+Father Seraphim began to drive them away, saying that Father
+Sergius was tired.
+
+But Father Sergius, remembering the words of the Gospel: 'Forbid
+them' (children) 'not to come unto me,' and feeling tenderly
+towards himself at this recollection, said they should be allowed
+to approach.
+
+He rose, went to the railing beyond which the crowd had gathered,
+and began blessing them and answering their questions, but in a
+voice so weak that he was touched with pity for himself.  Yet
+despite his wish to receive them all he could not do it.  Things
+again grew dark before his eyes, and he staggered and grasped the
+railings.  He felt a rush of blood to his head and first went
+pale and then suddenly flushed.
+
+'I must leave the rest till to-morrow.  I cannot do more to-day,'
+and, pronouncing a general benediction, he returned to the bench. 
+The merchant again supported him, and leading him by the arm
+helped him to be seated.
+
+'Father!' came voices from the crowd.  'Dear Father! Do not
+forsake us.  Without you we are lost!'
+
+The merchant, having seated Father Sergius on the bench under the
+elm, took on himself police duties and drove the people off very
+resolutely.  It is true that he spoke in a low voice so that
+Father Sergius might not hear him, but his words were incisive
+and angry.
+
+'Be off, be off!  He has blessed you, and what more do you want? 
+Get along with you, or I'll wring your necks! Move on there!  Get
+along, you old woman with your dirty leg-bands!  Go, go!  Where
+are you shoving to?  You've been told that it is finished. 
+To-morrow will be as God wills, but for to-day he has finished!'
+
+'Father!  Only let my eyes have a glimpse of his dear face!' said
+an old woman.
+
+'I'll glimpse you!  Where are you shoving to?'
+
+Father Sergius noticed that the merchant seemed to be acting
+roughly, and in a feeble voice told the attendant that the people
+should not be driven away.  He knew that they would be driven
+away all the same, and he much desired to be left alone and to
+rest, but he sent the attendant with that message to produce an
+impression.
+
+'All right, all right!  I am not driving them away.  I am only
+remonstrating with them,' replied the merchant.  'You know they
+wouldn't hesitate to drive a man to death.  They have no pity,
+they only consider themselves. . . .  You've been told you cannot
+see him.  Go away!  To-morrow!'  And he got rid of them all.
+
+He took all these pains because he liked order and liked to
+domineer and drive the people away, but chiefly because he wanted
+to have Father Sergius to himself.  He was a widower with an only
+daughter who was an invalid and unmarried, and whom he had
+brought fourteen hundred versts to Father Sergius to be healed. 
+For two years past he had been taking her to different places to
+be cured: first to the university clinic in the chief town of the
+province, but that did no good; then to a peasant in the province
+of Samara, where she got a little better; then to a doctor in
+Moscow to whom he paid much money, but this did no good at all. 
+Now he had been told that Father Sergius wrought cures, and had
+brought her to him.  So when all the people had been driven away
+he approached Father Sergius, and suddenly falling on his knees
+loudly exclaimed:
+
+'Holy Father!  Bless my afflicted offspring that she may be
+healed of her malady.  I venture to prostrate myself at your holy
+feet.'
+
+And he placed one hand on the other, cup-wise.  He said and did
+all this as if he were doing something clearly and firmly
+appointed by law and usage--as if one must and should ask for a
+daughter to be cured in just this way and no other.  He did it
+with such conviction that it seemed even to Father Sergius that
+it should be said and done in just that way, but nevertheless he
+bade him rise and tell him what the trouble was.  The merchant
+said that his daughter, a girl of twenty-two, had fallen ill two
+years ago, after her mother's sudden death.  She had moaned (as
+he expressed it) and since then had not been herself.  And now he
+had brought her fourteen hundred versts and she was waiting in
+the hostelry till Father Sergius should give orders to bring her. 
+She did not go out during the day, being afraid of the light, and
+could only come after sunset.
+
+'Is she very weak?' asked Father Sergius.
+
+'No, she has no particular weakness.  She is quite plump, and is
+only "nerastenic" the doctors say.  If you will only let me bring
+her this evening, Father Sergius, I'll fly like a spirit to fetch
+her.  Holy Father!  Revive a parent's heart, restore his line,
+save his afflicted daughter by your prayers!'  And the merchant
+again threw himself on his knees and bending sideways, with his
+head resting on his clenched fists, remained stock still.  Father
+Sergius again told him to get up, and thinking how heavy his
+activities were and how he went through with them patiently
+notwithstanding, he sighed heavily and after a few seconds of
+silence, said:
+
+'Well, bring her this evening.  I will pray for her, but now I am
+tired . . .' and he closed his eyes.  'I will send for you.'
+
+The merchant went away, stepping on tiptoe, which only made his
+boots creak the louder, and Father Sergius remained alone.
+
+His whole life was filled by Church services and by people who
+came to see him, but to-day had been a particularly difficult
+one.  In the morning an important official had arrived and had
+had a long conversation with him; after that a lady had come with
+her son.  This son was a sceptical young professor whom the
+mother, an ardent believer and devoted to Father Sergius, had
+brought that he might talk to him.  The conversation had been
+very trying.  The young man, evidently not wishing to have a
+controversy with a monk, had agreed with him in everything as
+with someone who was mentally inferior.  Father Sergius saw that
+the young man did not believe but yet was satisfied, tranquil,
+and at ease, and the memory of that conversation now disquieted
+him.
+
+'Have something to eat, Father,' said the attendant.
+
+'All right, bring me something.'
+
+The attendant went to a hut that had been arranged some ten paces
+from the cave, and Father Sergius remained alone.
+
+The time was long past when he had lived alone doing everything
+for himself and eating only rye-bread, or rolls prepared for the
+Church.  He had been advised long since that he had no right to
+neglect his health, and he was given wholesome, though Lenten,
+food.  He ate sparingly, though much more than he had done, and
+often he ate with much pleasure, and not as formerly with
+aversion and a sense of guilt.  So it was now.  He had some
+gruel, drank a cup of tea, and ate half a white roll.
+
+The attendant went away, and Father Sergius remained alone under
+the elm tree.
+
+It was a wonderful May evening, when the birches, aspens, elms,
+wild cherries, and oaks, had just burst into foliage.
+
+The bush of wild cherries behind the elm tree was in full bloom
+and had not yet begun to shed its blossoms, and the
+nightingales--one quite near at hand and two or three others in
+the bushes down by the river--burst into full song after some
+preliminary twitters.  From the river came the far-off songs of
+peasants returning, no doubt, from their work.  The sun was
+setting behind the forest, its last rays glowing through the
+leaves.  All that side was brilliant green, the other side with
+the elm tree was dark. The cockchafers flew clumsily about,
+falling to the ground when they collided with anything.
+
+After supper Father Sergius began to repeat a silent prayer: 'O
+Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy upon us!' and then he
+read a psalm, and suddenly in the middle of the psalm a sparrow
+flew out from the bush, alighted on the ground, and hopped
+towards him chirping as it came, but then it took fright at
+something and flew away.  He said a prayer which referred to his
+abandonment of the world, and hastened to finish it in order to
+send for the merchant with the sick daughter.  She interested him
+in that she presented a distraction, and because both she and her
+father considered him a saint whose prayers were efficacious. 
+Outwardly he disavowed that idea, but in the depths of his soul
+he considered it to be true.
+
+He was often amazed that this had happened, that he, Stepan
+Kasatsky, had come to be such an extraordinary saint and even a
+worker of miracles, but of the fact that he was such there could
+not be the least doubt.  He could not fail to believe in the
+miracles he himself witnessed, beginning with the sick boy and
+ending with the old woman who had recovered her sight when he had
+prayed for her.
+
+Strange as it might be, it was so.  Accordingly the merchant's
+daughter interested him as a new individual who had faith in him,
+and also as a fresh opportunity to confirm his healing powers and
+enhance his fame.  'They bring people a thousand versts and write
+about it in the papers. The Emperor knows of it, and they know of
+it in Europe, in unbelieving Europe'--thought he.  And suddenly
+he felt ashamed of his vanity and again began to pray.  'Lord,
+King of Heaven, Comforter, Soul of Truth!  Come and enter into me
+and cleanse me from all sin and save and bless my soul.  Cleanse
+me from the sin of worldly vanity that troubles me!' he repeated,
+and he remembered how often he had prayed about this and how vain
+till now his prayers had been in that respect.  His prayers
+worked miracles for others, but in his own case God had not
+granted him liberation from this petty passion.
+
+He remembered his prayers at the commencement of his life at the
+hermitage, when he prayed for purity, humility, and love, and how
+it seemed to him then that God heard his prayers.  He had
+retained his purity and had chopped off his finger.  And he
+lifted the shrivelled stump of that finger to his lips and kissed
+it.  It seemed to him now that he had been humble then when he
+had always seemed loathsome to himself on account of his
+sinfulness; and when he remembered the tender feelings with which
+he had then met an old man who was bringing a drunken soldier to
+him to ask alms; and how he had received HER, it seemed to him
+that he had then possessed love also. But now?  And he asked
+himself whether he loved anyone, whether he loved Sofya Ivanovna,
+or Father Seraphim, whether he had any feeling of love for all
+who had come to him that day--for that learned young man with
+whom he had had that instructive discussion in which he was
+concerned only to show off his own intelligence and that he had
+not lagged behind the times in knowledge.  He wanted and needed
+their love, but felt none towards them. He now had neither love
+nor humility nor purity.
+
+He was pleased to know that the merchant's daughter was
+twenty-two, and he wondered whether she was good-looking.  When
+he inquired whether she was weak, he really wanted to know if she
+had feminine charm.
+
+'Can I have fallen so low?' he thought.  'Lord, help me! Restore
+me, my Lord and God!'  And he clasped his hands and began to
+pray.
+
+The nightingales burst into song, a cockchafer knocked against
+him and crept up the back of his neck.  He brushed it off.  'But
+does He exist?  What if I am knocking at a door fastened from
+outside?  The bar is on the door for all to see.  Nature--the
+nightingales and the cockchafers--is that bar.  Perhaps the young
+man was right.'  And he began to pray aloud.  He prayed for a
+long time till these thoughts vanished and he again felt calm and
+confident. He rang the bell and told the attendant to say that
+the merchant might bring his daughter to him now.
+
+The merchant came, leading his daughter by the arm. He led her
+into the cell and immediately left her.
+
+She was a very fair girl, plump and very short, with a pale,
+frightened, childish face and a much developed feminine figure. 
+Father Sergius remained seated on the bench at the entrance and
+when she was passing and stopped beside him for his blessing he
+was aghast at himself for the way he looked at her figure.  As
+she passed by him he was acutely conscious of her femininity,
+though he saw by her face that she was sensual and feeble-minded.
+He rose and went into the cell.  She was sitting on a stool
+waiting for him, and when he entered she rose.
+
+'I want to go back to Papa,' she said.
+
+'Don't be afraid,' he replied.  'What are you suffering from?'
+
+'I am in pain all over,' she said, and suddenly her face lit up
+with a smile.
+
+'You will be well,' said he.  'Pray!'
+
+'What is the use of praying?  I have prayed and it does no
+good'--and she continued to smile.  'I want you to pray for me
+and lay your hands on me.  I saw you in a dream.'
+
+'How did you see me?'
+
+'I saw you put your hands on my breast like that.'  She took his
+hand and pressed it to her breast.  'Just here.'
+
+He yielded his right hand to her.
+
+'What is your name?' he asked, trembling all over and feeling
+that he was overcome and that his desire had already passed
+beyond control.
+
+'Marie.  Why?'
+
+She took his hand and kissed it, and then put her arm round his
+waist and pressed him to herself.
+
+'What are you doing?' he said.  'Marie, you are a devil!'
+
+'Oh, perhaps.  What does it matter?'
+
+And embracing him she sat down with him on the bed.
+
+At dawn he went out into the porch.
+
+'Can this all have happened?  Her father will come and she will
+tell him everything.  She is a devil!  What am I to do?  Here is
+the axe with which I chopped off my finger.' He snatched up the
+axe and moved back towards the cell.
+
+The attendant came up.
+
+'Do you want some wood chopped?  Let me have the axe.'
+
+Sergius yielded up the axe and entered the cell.  She was lying
+there asleep.  He looked at her with horror, and passed on beyond
+the partition, where he took down the peasant clothes and put
+them on.  Then he seized a pair of scissors, cut off his long
+hair, and went out along the path down the hill to the river,
+where he had not been for more than three years.
+
+A road ran beside the river and he went along it and walked till
+noon.  Then he went into a field of rye and lay down there. 
+Towards evening he approached a village, but without entering it
+went towards the cliff that overhung the river.  There he again
+lay down to rest.
+
+It was early morning, half an hour before sunrise.  All was damp
+and gloomy and a cold early wind was blowing from the west. 
+'Yes, I must end it all.  There is no God. But how am I to end
+it?  Throw myself into the river?  I can swim and should not
+drown.  Hang myself?  Yes, just throw this sash over a branch.' 
+This seemed so feasible and so easy that he felt horrified.  As
+usual at moments of despair he felt the need of prayer.  But
+there was no one to pray to.  There was no God.  He lay down
+resting on his arm, and suddenly such a longing for sleep
+overcame him that he could no longer support his head on his
+hand, but stretched out his arm, laid his head upon it, and fell
+asleep. But that sleep lasted only for a moment.  He woke up
+immediately and began not to dream but to remember.
+
+He saw himself as a child in his mother's home in the country.  A
+carriage drives up, and out of it steps Uncle Nicholas
+Sergeevich, with his long, spade-shaped, black beard, and with
+him Pashenka, a thin little girl with large mild eyes and a timid
+pathetic face.  And into their company of boys Pashenka is
+brought and they have to play with her, but it is dull.  She is
+silly, and it ends by their making fun of her and forcing her to
+show how she can swim.  She lies down on the floor and shows
+them, and they all laugh and make a fool of her.  She sees this
+and blushes red in patches and becomes more pitiable than before,
+so pitiable that he feels ashamed and can never forget that
+crooked, kindly, submissive smile.  And Sergius remembered having
+seen her since then.  Long after, just before he became a monk,
+she had married a landowner who squandered all her fortune and
+was in the habit of beating her.  She had had two children, a son
+and a daughter, but the son had died while still young.  And
+Sergius remembered having seen her very wretched.  Then again he
+had seen her in the monastery when she was a widow.  She had been
+still the same, not exactly stupid, but insipid, insignificant,
+and pitiable.  She had come with her daughter and her daughter's
+fiance.  They were already poor at that time and later on he had
+heard that she was living in a small provincial town and was very
+poor.
+
+'Why am I thinking about her?' he asked himself, but he could not
+cease doing so.  'Where is she?  How is she getting on?  Is she
+still as unhappy as she was then when she had to show us how to
+swim on the floor?  But why should I think about her?  What am I
+doing?  I must put an end to myself.'
+
+And again he felt afraid, and again, to escape from that thought,
+he went on thinking about Pashenka.
+
+So he lay for a long time, thinking now of his unavoidable end
+and now of Pashenka.  She presented herself to him as a means of
+salvation.  At last he fell asleep, and in his sleep he saw an
+angel who came to him and said: 'Go to Pashenka and learn from
+her what you have to do, what your sin is, and wherein lies your
+salvation.'
+
+He awoke, and having decided that this was a vision sent by God,
+he felt glad, and resolved to do what had been told him in the
+vision.  He knew the town where she lived.  It was some three
+hundred versts (two hundred miles) away, and he set out to walk
+there.
+
+
+
+VI
+
+Pashenka had already long ceased to be Pashenka and had become
+old, withered, wrinkled Praskovya Mikhaylovna, mother-in-law of
+that failure, the drunken official Mavrikyev.  She was living in
+the country town where he had had his last appointment, and there
+she was supporting the family: her daughter, her ailing
+neurasthenic son-in-law, and her five grandchildren.  She did
+this by giving music lessons to tradesmen's daughters, giving
+four and sometimes five lessons a day of an hour each, and
+earning in this way some sixty rubles (6 pounds) a month.  So
+they lived for the present, in expectation of another
+appointment.  She had sent letters to all her relations and
+acquaintances asking them to obtain a post for her son-in-law,
+and among the rest she had written to Sergius, but that letter
+had not reached him.
+
+It was a Saturday, and Praskovya Mikhaylovna was herself mixing
+dough for currant bread such as the serf-cook on her father's
+estate used to make so well.  She wished to give her
+grandchildren a treat on the Sunday.
+
+Masha, her daughter, was nursing her youngest child, the eldest
+boy and girl were at school, and her son-in-law was asleep, not
+having slept during the night.  Praskovya Mikhaylovna had
+remained awake too for a great part of the night, trying to
+soften her daughter's anger against her husband.
+
+She saw that it was impossible for her son-in-law, a weak
+creature, to be other than he was, and realized that his wife's
+reproaches could do no good--so she used all her efforts to
+soften those reproaches and to avoid recrimination and anger. 
+Unkindly relations between people caused her actual physical
+suffering.  It was so clear to her that bitter feelings do not
+make anything better, but only make everything worse.  She did
+not in fact think about this: she simply suffered at the sight of
+anger as she would from a bad smell, a harsh noise, or from blows
+on her body.
+
+She had--with a feeling of self-satisfaction--just taught Lukerya
+how to mix the dough, when her six-year-old grandson Misha,
+wearing an apron and with darned stockings on his crooked little
+legs, ran into the kitchen with a frightened face.
+
+'Grandma, a dreadful old man wants to see you.'
+
+Lukerya looked out at the door.
+
+'There is a pilgrim of some kind, a man . . .'
+
+Praskovya Mikhaylovna rubbed her thin elbows against one another,
+wiped her hands on her apron and went upstairs to get a
+five-kopek piece [about a penny] out of her purse for him, but
+remembering that she had nothing less than a ten-kopek piece she
+decided to give him some bread instead.  She returned to the
+cupboard, but suddenly blushed at the thought of having grudged
+the ten-kopek piece, and telling Lukerya to cut a slice of bread,
+went upstairs again to fetch it.  'It serves you right,' she said
+to herself.  'You must now give twice over.'
+
+She gave both the bread and the money to the pilgrim, and when
+doing so--far from being proud of her generosity--she excused
+herself for giving so little.  The man had such an imposing
+appearance.
+
+Though he had tramped two hundred versts as a beggar, though he
+was tattered and had grown thin and weatherbeaten, though he had
+cropped his long hair and was wearing a peasant's cap and boots,
+and though he bowed very humbly, Sergius still had the impressive
+appearance that made him so attractive.  But Praskovya
+Mikhaylovna did not recognize him.  She could hardly do so, not
+having seen him for almost twenty years.
+
+'Don't think ill of me, Father.  Perhaps you want something to
+eat?'
+
+He took the bread and the money, and Praskovya Mikhaylovna was
+surprised that he did not go, but stood looking at her.
+
+'Pashenka, I have come to you!  Take me in . . .'
+
+His beautiful black eyes, shining with the tears that started in
+them, were fixed on her with imploring insistence.  And under his
+greyish moustache his lips quivered piteously.
+
+Praskovya Mikhaylovna pressed her hands to her withered breast,
+opened her mouth, and stood petrified, staring at the pilgrim
+with dilated eyes.
+
+'It can't be!  Stepa!  Sergey!  Father Sergius!'
+
+'Yes, it is I,' said Sergius in a low voice.  'Only not Sergius,
+or Father Sergius, but a great sinner, Stepan Kasatsky--a great
+and lost sinner.  Take me in and help me!'
+
+'It's impossible!  How have you so humbled yourself? But come
+in.'
+
+She reached out her hand, but he did not take it and only
+followed her in.
+
+But where was she to take him?  The lodging was a small one. 
+Formerly she had had a tiny room, almost a closet, for herself,
+but later she had given it up to her daughter, and Masha was now
+sitting there rocking the baby.
+
+'Sit here for the present,' she said to Sergius, pointing to a
+bench in the kitchen.
+
+He sat down at once, and with an evidently accustomed movement
+slipped the straps of his wallet first off one shoulder and then
+off the other.
+
+'My God, my God!  How you have humbled yourself, Father!  Such
+great fame, and now like this . . .'
+
+Sergius did not reply, but only smiled meekly, placing his wallet
+under the bench on which he sat.
+
+'Masha, do you know who this is?'--And in a whisper Praskovya
+Mikhaylovna told her daughter who he was, and together they then
+carried the bed and the cradle out of the tiny room and cleared
+it for Sergius.
+
+Praskovya Mikhaylovna led him into it.
+
+'Here you can rest.  Don't take offence . . . but I must go out.'
+
+'Where to?'
+
+'I have to go to a lesson.  I am ashamed to tell you, but I teach
+music!'
+
+'Music?  But that is good.  Only just one thing, Praskovya
+Mikhaylovna, I have come to you with a definite object. When can
+I have a talk with you?'
+
+'I shall be very glad.  Will this evening do?'
+
+'Yes.  But one thing more.  Don't speak about me, or say who I
+am.  I have revealed myself only to you.  No one knows where I
+have gone to.  It must be so.'
+
+'Oh, but I have told my daughter.'
+
+'Well, ask her not to mention it.'
+
+And Sergius took off his boots, lay down, and at once fell asleep
+after a sleepless night and a walk of nearly thirty miles.
+
+When Praskovya Mikhaylovna returned, Sergius was sitting in the
+little room waiting for her.  He did not come out for dinner, but
+had some soup and gruel which Lukerya brought him.
+
+'How is it that you have come back earlier than you said?' asked
+Sergius.  'Can I speak to you now?'
+
+'How is it that I have the happiness to receive such a guest?  I
+have missed one of my lessons.  That can wait . . . I had always
+been planning to go to see you.  I wrote to you, and now this
+good fortune has come.'
+
+'Pashenka, please listen to what I am going to tell you as to a
+confession made to God at my last hour.  Pashenka, I am not a
+holy man, I am not even as good as a simple ordinary man; I am a
+loathsome, vile, and proud sinner who has gone astray, and who,
+if not worse than everyone else, is at least worse than most very
+bad people.'
+
+Pashenka looked at him at first with staring eyes.  But she
+believed what he said, and when she had quite grasped it she
+touched his hand, smiling pityingly, and said:
+
+'Perhaps you exaggerate, Stiva?'
+
+'No, Pashenka.  I am an adulterer, a murderer, a blasphemer, and
+a deceiver.'
+
+'My God!  How is that?' exclaimed Praskovya Mikhaylovna.
+
+'But I must go on living.  And I, who thought I knew everything,
+who taught others how to live--I know nothing and ask you to
+teach me.'
+
+'What are you saying, Stiva?  You are laughing at me. Why do you
+always make fun of me?'
+
+'Well, if you think I am jesting you must have it as you please. 
+But tell me all the same how you live, and how you have lived
+your life.'
+
+'I?  I have lived a very nasty, horrible life, and now God is
+punishing me as I deserve.  I live so wretchedly, so wretchedly .
+. .'
+
+'How was it with your marriage?  How did you live with your
+husband?'
+
+'It was all bad.  I married because I fell in love in the
+nastiest way.  Papa did not approve.  But I would not listen to
+anything and just got married.  Then instead of helping my
+husband I tormented him by my jealousy, which I could not
+restrain.'
+
+'I heard that he drank . . .'
+
+'Yes, but I did not give him any peace.  I always reproached him,
+though you know it is a disease!  He could not refrain from it. 
+I now remember how I tried to prevent his having it, and the
+frightful scenes we had!'
+
+And she looked at Kasatsky with beautiful eyes, suffering from
+the remembrance.
+
+Kasatsky remembered how he had been told that Pashenka's husband
+used to beat her, and now, looking at her thin withered neck with
+prominent veins behind her ears, and her scanty coil of hair,
+half grey half auburn, he seemed to see just how it had occurred.
+
+'Then I was left with two children and no means at all.'
+
+'But you had an estate!'
+
+'Oh, we sold that while Vasya was still alive, and the money was
+all spent.  We had to live, and like all our young ladies I did
+not know how to earn anything.  I was particularly useless and
+helpless.  So we spent all we had. I taught the children and
+improved my own education a little.  And then Mitya fell ill when
+he was already in the fourth form, and God took him.  Masha fell
+in love with Vanya, my son-in-law.  And--well, he is well-meaning
+but unfortunate.  He is ill.'
+
+'Mamma!'--her daughter's voice interrupted her--'Take Mitya!  I
+can't be in two places at once.'
+
+Praskovya Mikhaylovna shuddered, but rose and went out of the
+room, stepping quickly in her patched shoes.  She soon came back
+with a boy of two in her arms, who threw himself backwards and
+grabbed at her shawl with his little hands.
+
+'Where was I?  Oh yes, he had a good appointment here, and his
+chief was a kind man too.  But Vanya could not go on, and had to
+give up his position.'
+
+'What is the matter with him?'
+
+'Neurasthenia--it is a dreadful complaint.  We consulted a
+doctor, who told us he ought to go away, but we had no means. . .
+.  I always hope it will pass of itself. He has no particular
+pain, but . . .'
+
+'Lukerya!' cried an angry and feeble voice.  'She is always sent
+away when I want her.  Mamma . . .'
+
+'I'm coming!' Praskovya Mikhaylovna again interrupted herself. 
+'He has not had his dinner yet.  He can't eat with us.'
+
+She went out and arranged something, and came back wiping her
+thin dark hands.
+
+'So that is how I live.  I always complain and am always
+dissatisfied, but thank God the grandchildren are all nice and
+healthy, and we can still live.  But why talk about me?'
+
+'But what do you live on?'
+
+'Well, I earn a little.  How I used to dislike music, but how
+useful it is to me now!'  Her small hand lay on the chest of
+drawers beside which she was sitting, and she drummed an exercise
+with her thin fingers.
+
+'How much do you get for a lesson?'
+
+'Sometimes a ruble, sometimes fifty kopeks, or sometimes thirty. 
+They are all so kind to me.'
+
+'And do your pupils get on well?' asked Kasatsky with a slight
+smile.
+
+Praskovya Mikhaylovna did not at first believe that he was asking
+seriously, and looked inquiringly into his eyes.
+
+'Some of them do.  One of them is a splendid girl--the butcher's
+daughter--such a good kind girl!  If I were a clever woman I
+ought, of course, with the connexions Papa had, to be able to get
+an appointment for my son-in-law. But as it is I have not been
+able to do anything, and have brought them all to this--as you
+see.'
+
+'Yes, yes,' said Kasatsky, lowering his head.  'And how is it,
+Pashenka--do you take part in Church life?'
+
+'Oh, don't speak of it.  I am so bad that way, and have neglected
+it so!  I keep the fasts with the children and sometimes go to
+church, and then again sometimes I don't go for months.  I only
+send the children.'
+
+'But why don't you go yourself?'
+
+'To tell the truth' (she blushed) 'I am ashamed, for my
+daughter's sake and the children's, to go there in tattered
+clothes, and I haven't anything else.  Besides, I am just lazy.'
+
+'And do you pray at home?'
+
+'I do.  But what sort of prayer is it?  Only mechanical. I know
+it should not be like that, but I lack real religious feeling. 
+The only thing is that I know how bad I am . . .'
+
+'Yes, yes, that's right!' said Kasatsky, as if approvingly.
+
+'I'm coming!  I'm coming!' she replied to a call from her
+son-in-law, and tidying her scanty plait she left the room.
+
+But this time it was long before she returned.  When she came
+back, Kasatsky was sitting in the same position, his elbows
+resting on his knees and his head bowed.  But his wallet was
+strapped on his back.
+
+When she came in, carrying a small tin lamp without a shade, he
+raised his fine weary eyes and sighed very deeply.
+
+'I did not tell them who you are,' she began timidly. 'I only
+said that you are a pilgrim, a nobleman, and that I used to know
+you.  Come into the dining-room for tea.'
+
+'No . . .'
+
+'Well then, I'll bring some to you here.'
+
+'No, I don't want anything.  God bless you, Pashenka! I am going
+now.  If you pity me, don't tell anyone that you have seen me. 
+For the love of God don't tell anyone. Thank you.  I would bow to
+your feet but I know it would make you feel awkward.  Thank you,
+and forgive me for Christ's sake!'
+
+'Give me your blessing.'
+
+'God bless you!  Forgive me for Christ's sake!'
+
+He rose, but she would not let him go until she had given him
+bread and butter and rusks.  He took it all and went away.
+
+It was dark, and before he had passed the second house he was
+lost to sight.  She only knew he was there because the dog at the
+priest's house was barking.
+
+'So that is what my dream meant!  Pashenka is what I ought to
+have been but failed to be.  I lived for men on the pretext of
+living for God, while she lived for God imagining that she lives
+for men.  Yes, one good deed--a cup of water given without
+thought of reward--is worth more than any benefit I imagined I
+was bestowing on people.  But after all was there not some share
+of sincere desire to serve God?' he asked himself, and the answer
+was: 'Yes, there was, but it was all soiled and overgrown by
+desire for human praise.  Yes, there is no God for the man who
+lives, as I did, for human praise.  I will now seek Him!'
+
+And he walked from village to village as he had done on his way
+to Pashenka, meeting and parting from other pilgrims, men and
+women, and asking for bread and a night's rest in Christ's name. 
+Occasionally some angry housewife scolded him, or a drunken
+peasant reviled him, but for the most part he was given food and
+drink and even something to take with him.  His noble bearing
+disposed some people in his favour, while others on the contrary
+seemed pleased at the sight of a gentleman who had come to
+beggary.
+
+But his gentleness prevailed with everyone.
+
+Often, finding a copy of the Gospels in a hut he would read it
+aloud, and when they heard him the people were always touched and
+surprised, as at something new yet familiar.
+
+When he succeeded in helping people, either by advice, or by his
+knowledge of reading and writing, or by settling some quarrel, he
+did not wait to see their gratitude but went away directly
+afterwards.  And little by little God began to reveal Himself
+within him.
+
+Once he was walking along with two old women and a soldier.  They
+were stopped by a party consisting of a lady and gentleman in a
+gig and another lady and gentleman on horseback.  The husband was
+on horseback with his daughter, while in the gig his wife was
+driving with a Frenchman, evidently a traveller.
+
+The party stopped to let the Frenchman see the pilgrims who, in
+accord with a popular Russian superstition, tramped about from
+place to place instead of working.
+
+They spoke French, thinking that the others would not understand
+them.
+
+'Demandez-leur,' said the Frenchman,  's'ils sont bien sur de ce
+que leur pelerinage est agreable a Dieu.'
+
+The question was asked, and one old woman replied:
+
+'As God takes it.  Our feet have reached the holy places, but our
+hearts may not have done so.'
+
+They asked the soldier.  He said that he was alone in the world
+and had nowhere else to go.
+
+They asked Kasatsky who he was.
+
+'A servant of God.'
+
+'Qu'est-ce qu'il dit?  Il ne repond pas.'
+
+'Il dit qu'il est un serviteur de Dieu.  Cela doit etre un fils
+de preetre.  Il a de la race.  Avez-vous de la petite monnaie?'
+
+The Frenchman found some small change and gave twenty kopeks to
+each of the pilgrims.
+
+'Mais dites-leur que ce n'est pas pour les cierges que je leur
+donne, mais pour qu'ils se regalent de the.  Chay, chay pour
+vous, mon vieux!' he said with a smile.  And he patted Kasatsky
+on the shoulder with his gloved hand.
+
+'May Christ bless you,' replied Kasatsky without replacing his
+cap and bowing his bald head.
+
+He rejoiced particularly at this meeting, because he had
+disregarded the opinion of men and had done the simplest, easiest
+thing--humbly accepted twenty kopeks and given them to his
+comrade, a blind beggar.  The less importance he attached to the
+opinion of men the more did he feel the presence of God within
+him.
+
+For eight months Kasatsky tramped on in this manner, and in the
+ninth month he was arrested for not having a passport.  This
+happened at a night-refuge in a provincial town where he had
+passed the night with some pilgrims.  He was taken to the
+police-station, and when asked who he was and where was his
+passport, he replied that he had no passport and that he was a
+servant of God.  He was classed as a tramp, sentenced, and sent
+to live in Siberia.
+
+In Siberia he has settled down as the hired man of a well-to-do
+peasant, in which capacity he works in the kitchen-garden,
+teaches children, and attends to the sick.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Father Sergius by Leo Tolstoy
+
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