IN THE FOREST
MICHAEL began his school, protected and encouraged by Father Cyril,
the Batoushka, though the Starosta did his best to put a stop to it.
Father Cyril had been appointed to the Orthodox Church in Knishi, on
the death of Father Vasili, with the idea that his holiness of life
and sweetness of nature would bring back the straying Stundists to the
Orthodox faith. He was loyally attached to the Greek Church, and never
having been in close contact with the Stundists before, he had come to
this parish with high hopes of soon rooting out the pestilent heresy by
conciliatory measures and telling arguments. He found the unlettered
peasants very open to conciliation, but their arguments, taken simply
and solely from the New Testament, he could not often combat, and could
never overthrow. In the meanwhile he had conceived a great respect and
a real friendship for Alexis Ivanoff.
Alexis had had more than a village education. He had lived some
years in Moscow, and availed himself eagerly of every opportunity
for acquiring knowledge. His wife, Catherine, had been no ordinary
woman; she had always been a true helpmate and companion to him. He
had learned English from her, and possessed many English books. He
had translated the best English hymns into Russian verse, which were
printed and widely circulated.
Father Cyril was greatly interested in this heretical household—the
well-read, intelligent farmer, the manly yet boyish son, and his
pretty, sweet-tempered little girl. The sad, broken-hearted Paraska,
mourning for her children, also aroused his deepest sympathy. The
farmstead was a model to the village. Whenever Father Cyril passed
it, and saw the clean fold-yard, the comfortable house, with its
shining windows, and the flowers blossoming round it, he sighed to
think he could not point it out as a pattern to his idle and drunken
parishioners without giving great offence to the Orthodox people. He
could not even go as often as he would like to visit Alexis Ivanoff.
Michael's school for the Stundist children prospered; he proved to
be a very good teacher. There was no doubt he was doing better than
the village schoolmistress, who took no real interest in her work.
The Stundist children, who were obliged to pass through Knishi to
reach Ostron were often assailed with threats and bad language and
occasionally with missiles from the Orthodox children. For the spirit
of persecution is easily aroused, but very difficult to suppress.
The summer was nearly over, and the harvest was gathered in, an
abundant harvest, which filled every barn to overflowing. Michael gave
himself and his little school a holiday that they might spend a whole
day in the forest, which lay to the east of Ostron. Paraska made a
large supply of pasties, some of which were filled with boiled cabbage,
and others with fruit; and she baked a quantity of bread and cakes;
for there were quite a dozen children to go besides Michael and Velia,
and Sergius and Marfa, who came as guests, being too old and too busy
to attend the school. They kept this expedition a profound secret,
lest the Orthodox children should follow to the forest and spoil their
holiday.
There was no road, only a foot track to the forest; and between it and
the steppe lay a deep ravine, crossed by a rude bridge of the trunk of
a tree, which had fallen across the chasm generations ago. Some of the
oldest trees in it had been left untouched for centuries, and as the
timber belonged to the Government, it was left to grow very wild and
untrimmed, though the village was often in dire need of fuel. There was
a great tangle of brushwood; and it had the reputation of being haunted
in some parts of its dark and moist thickets. Only the most daring
spirits among the Knishi boys would venture into its glades. But the
Stundist children were at home there. For during the last few years,
many a secret meeting for worship had been held in a deserted hut some
distance within it.
It was a lovely day in September. The sun was still hot, but there were
sweet, warm gusts of wind, which tossed the leafy branches to and fro,
and brought with it the sweet perfume of wild flowers and the pungent
scent of herbs. There were many open spaces where the sun had dried the
moist earth, and where the children could play safely. They played till
the little ones were tired, and then they turned their steps towards
the deserted hut, to eat their dinner.
It had been a charcoal-burner's hut, but for many years no peasant had
consented to work there, so near was it to a fatally-haunted spot. It
stood in a dense thicket, with no beaten track to it; for the Stundists
were careful not to tread down a path which might betray their
meeting-place. A few rough trunks of trees formed some benches for the
congregation to sit upon, and a large log set on end served as a table
for the preacher to stand at, and lay his Bible and hymnbook on. The
children sat here and ate their dinner with a subdued gaiety even more
enjoyable than the boisterous play outside. They sang a grace before
the meal began.
"Let us hold a meeting," Sergius proposed, when dinner was over, "and
Michael shall be our deacon."
"Yes, yes!" cried all the children, clapping their hands.
A few hymn-books were concealed in a hole in the thatched roof. These
were quickly brought out, and Michael took his place behind the
preacher's log, whilst his congregation seated themselves with smiling
faces on the benches.
"My little brothers and sisters," he began, "we can sing a hymn, but I
don't think it would be right for me to pray. I am too young to do that
out loud, and for you to listen to me. I might say something I ought
not to say; and you would perhaps be thinking of me, not of God. But
I'll talk to you, after we have sung 'Oh, happy band of pilgrims!'"