"My friend," I say, "my dear little dove, my benefactor!"... But he asks
me:
"When shall we set out?"
"Why, to-morrow, if thou wilt," I say.
So on the following day we started. We slung wallets over our shoulders,
took staves in our hands, and set forth. For seven whole days we trudged
on, and all the while the weather favoured us, and was even downright
wonderful! There was neither sultry heat nor rain; the flies did not
bite, the dust did not make us itch. And every day my Yákoff acquired a
better aspect. I must tell you that Yákoff had not been in the habit of
seeing _that one_ in the open air, but had felt him behind him, close to
his back, or his shadow had seemed to be gliding alongside, which
troubled my son greatly. But on this occasion nothing of that sort
happened, and nothing made its appearance. We talked very little
together ... but how greatly at our ease we felt--especially I! I saw
that my poor boy was coming to life again. I cannot describe to you, my
dear sir, what my feelings were then.--Well, we reached Vorónezh at
last. We cleaned up ourselves and washed ourselves, and went to the
cathedral, to the holy man. For three whole days we hardly left the
temple. How many prayer-services we celebrated, how many candles we
placed before the holy pictures! And everything was going well,
everything was fine; the days were devout, the nights were tranquil; my
Yákoff slept like an infant. He began to talk to me of his own accord.
He would ask: "Dost thou see nothing, father dear?" and smile. "No, I
see nothing," I would answer.--What more could be demanded? My gratitude
to the saint was unbounded.
Three days passed; I said to Yákoff: "Well, now, dear son, the matter
has been set in order; there's a festival in our street. One thing
remains to be done; do thou make thy confession and receive the
communion; and then, with God's blessing, we will go our way, and after
having got duly rested, and worked a bit on the farm to increase thy
strength, thou mayest bestir thyself and find a place--and Márfa
Sávishna will certainly help us in that," I said.
"No," said Yákoff, "why should we trouble her? But I will take her a
ring from Mitrofány's hand."
Thereupon I was greatly encouraged. "See to it," I said, "that thou
takest a silver ring, not a gold one,--not a wedding-ring!"
My Yákoff flushed up and merely repeated that it was not proper to
trouble her, but immediately assented to all the rest.--We went to the
cathedral on the following day; my Yákoff made his confession, and
prayed so fervently before it! And then he went forward to take the
communion. I was standing a little to one side, and did not feel the
earth under me for joy.... It is no sweeter for the angels in heaven!
But as I look--what is the meaning of that?--My Yákoff has received the
communion, but does not go to sip the warm water and wine![25] He is
standing with his back to me.... I go to him.
"Yákoff," I say, "why art thou standing here?"
He suddenly wheels round. Will you believe it, I sprang back, so
frightened was I!--His face had been dreadful before, but now it had
become ferocious, frightful! He was as pale as death, his hair stood on
end, his eyes squinted.... I even lost my voice with terror. I tried to
speak and could not; I was perfectly benumbed.... And he fairly rushed
out of the church! I ran after him ... but he fled straight to the
tavern where we had put up, flung his wallet over his shoulder, and away
he flew!
"Whither?" I shouted to him. "Yákoff, what aileth thee? Stop, wait!"
But Yákoff never uttered a word in reply to me, but ran like a hare, and
it was utterly impossible to overtake him! He disappeared from sight. I
immediately turned back, hired a cart, and trembled all over, and all I
could say was: "O Lord!" and, "O Lord!" And I understood nothing: some
calamity had descended upon us! I set out for home, for I thought, "He
has certainly fled thither."--And so he had. Six versts out of the town
I espied him; he was striding along the highway. I overtook him, jumped
out of the cart, and rushed to him.
"Yásha! Yásha!"--He halted, turned his face toward me, but kept his eyes
fixed on the ground and compressed his lips. And say what I would to
him, he stood there just like a statue, and one could just see that he
was breathing. And at last he trudged on again along the highway.--What
was there to do? I followed him....
Akh, what a journey that was, my dear sir! Great as had been our joy on
the way to Vorónezh, just so great was the horror of the return! I would
try to speak to him, and he would begin to gnash his teeth at me over
his shoulder, precisely like a tiger or a hyena! Why I did not go mad I
do not understand to this day! And at last, one night, in a peasant's
chicken-house, he was sitting on the platform over the oven and dangling
his feet and gazing about on all sides, when I fell on my knees before
him and began to weep, and besought him with bitter entreaty:
"Do not slay thy old father outright," I said; "do not let him fall
into despair--tell me what has happened to thee?"
He glanced at me as though he did not see who was before him, and
suddenly began to speak, but in such a voice that it rings in my ears
even now.
"Listen, daddy," said he. "Dost thou wish to know the whole truth? When
I had taken the communion, thou wilt remember, and still held the
particle[26] in my mouth, suddenly _he_ (and that was in the church, in
the broad daylight!) stood in front of me, just as though he had sprung
out of the ground, and whispered to me ... (but he had never spoken to
me before)--whispered: 'Spit it out, and grind it to powder!' I did so;
I spat it out, and ground it under foot. And now it must be that I am
lost forever, for every sin shall be forgiven, save the sin against the
Holy Spirit...."
And having uttered these dreadful words, my son threw himself back on
the platform and I dropped down on the floor of the hut.... My legs
failed me....
Father Alexyéi paused for a moment, and covered his eyes with his hand.
But why should I weary you longer [he went on], and myself? My son and I
dragged ourselves home, and there he soon afterward expired, and I lost
my Yásha. For several days before his death he neither ate nor drank,
but kept running back and forth in the room and repeating that there
could be no forgiveness for his sin.... But he never saw _him_ again.
"He has ruined my soul," he said; "and why should he come any more
now?" And when Yákoff took to his bed, he immediately sank into
unconsciousness, and thus, without repentance, like a senseless worm,
he went from this life to life eternal....
But I will not believe that the Lord judged harshly....
And among other reasons why I do not believe it is, that he looked so
well in his coffin; he seemed to have grown young again and resembled
the Yákoff of days gone by. His face was so tranquil and pure, his hair
curled in little rings, and there was a smile on his lips. Márfa
Sávishna came to look at him, and said the same thing. She encircled him
all round with flowers, and laid flowers on his heart, and set up the
gravestone at her own expense.
And I was left alone.... And that is why, my dear sir, you have beheld
such great grief on my face.... It will never pass off---and it cannot.
I wanted to speak a word of comfort to Father Alexyéi ... but could
think of none. We parted soon after.