A CRUEL BLOW
THE children who had been spending the day in the forest went home at
sunset, wearied but very happy. They parted with one another after
they had crossed the rough bridge, and Michael and Velia went on hand
in hand towards Ostron. Michael felt his heart strongly attracted by
Father Cyril. If all priests were like him, he thought, there would
be no persecution. And why should not people think differently about
religion, as they did about everything else? The Stundists accepted
the teaching of the New Testament literally. The Orthodox people added
symbols and ceremonies and the traditions of the Church to it. He could
not see that it made the New Testament any more binding. If the Lord
gave a command, His followers must obey it.
As Michael and Velia turned into the fold-yard, they heard a loud
harsh voice speaking on the other side of the house. They hurried
round the corner, and saw Okhrim, the Starosta, who was reading with
some difficulty from a large official document. He had not entered the
house; and Alexis stood listening, whilst Paraska could be seen partly
concealed by the door which she held ajar.
[Illustration: THE STAROSTA WAS READING FROM A DOCUMENT.]
Michael and Velia drew near just as Okhrim, with a spiteful smile on
his harsh face, read the plainly-worded order that the Starosta was to
aid the parish priest in removing all children of Stundist parents,
between the ages of two and ten years, and placing them in Orthodox
families, where they would be brought up in the Orthodox faith. A
wild frenzied shriek from Paraska rang through the quiet evening air;
and Velia, who understood the slowly-uttered order, uttered a cry of
terror, and flinging herself into her father's arms, clung closely to
him, as if no power on earth could tear her from the shelter of his
breast.
"Oh, my God!" cried Alexis. "What can I do?"
"Do?" repeated Okhrim contemptuously. "Why, become a good Christian,
and go to church and pay the Church dues. Ay! And drink vodka as
other Christians do. I believe you Stundists are the greatest fools
living. The child is to be brought up Orthodox, and if you won't do it,
somebody else must. I'll take her myself, and if fair means won't 'tice
her to church, there is always this."
He cracked his whip, which he always flourished in his hand, and was
not reluctant to use it on anybody he dared to tyrannise over. Alexis
felt Velia tremble violently in his arms.
"O Father," he cried, "if it be possible, save us from this hour!"
"There you go," said Okhrim, with a sneer and a laugh, "as if God
Almighty could hear you amid all His angels and archangels singing
and chanting, to say nothing of the blessed saints. If I were in your
plight, I'd pray humbly to one of the smallest saints, and get him to
speak to those higher up; and maybe it might reach at last the ear of
the Mother of God. Not that she'd do anything for a cursed Stundist.
Besides, she'd never interfere with our archbishop and the consistory."
"Can we do nothing, father?" cried Michael.
"I must think," said Alexis, turning to him with an expression of
almost hopeless anguish; "we have no power, no influence. Oh, if I had
only sent Velia to Scotland with you, she would have been safe! But
there are other fathers and other mothers. Oh, my God! Help us to bear
it!"
For once in his life Okhrim's conscience stung him, and he turned away,
slowly passing out of sight.
Alexis carried Velia into the house, and Paraska locked and barred the
door, as if she could shut out the coming trouble.
It was a sleepless night for Alexis, as well as for Father Cyril. The
thought crossed his mind that he would have time to carry Michael and
Velia to Odessa, and get his wife's kinsman there to send them away to
Scotland. But a step like this would only precipitate and intensify the
storm ready to burst, not only upon himself but upon hundreds of fellow
Stundists in the district. There were other parents, even in Knishi,
who would have the same most heavy cross laid upon them. They were
not only to be bereft of their children, but they knew those children
would be brought up in tenets which they themselves renounced with such
fervour that they were willing to sacrifice everything rather than
profess to believe them. No, he could not save Velia in that way.
Then he thought pitifully of Tatiania, whose husband, Khariton
Kondraty, had been in jail for nine months. She too would now have to
give up little Clava, her youngest child, the pet and darling of the
house. Poor Tatiania! Could she stand fast in her faith, so severely
tried? Could any of the mothers refrain from going back to the Orthodox
Church, if by doing so they could keep their little ones? Ah! This
was the sharpest weapon of all in the Orthodox armoury. "Give me the
children," the Church demanded, "and the mothers will follow."
Then Father Cyril was so good and kind and persuasive; so different
from Father Vasili, who had been an idle, self-indulgent, and arrogant
parish priest. It would make it much easier for the women to go back to
the Orthodox Church. By slow degrees they would relapse into the old
condition of superstitious observances, and the lamp of truth would be
extinguished in Knishi, as it had been in other places.
But below every other thought there rang through his soul the cry, "Oh,
Velia, my little child! Would to God we could die together, my child
and I!"
The morning came, and a wretched circle assembled at breakfast. Michael
and Velia had both slept, but their eyes were red, as if they had wept
themselves to sleep and awoke with tears again. Paraska was heavy-eyed,
and completely dumb. They were lingering together, as if they could not
bear to separate, even for an hour, when Father Cyril appeared at the
door.
"Ah, Okhrim has been before me!" he exclaimed. "I ought to have come
last night. My poor Alexis! But the order is not to be executed before
Sunday that the people may have time to make their submission, and be
reconciled to the Church. Those parents who come to confession will
keep their children, on condition that they bring them up as Orthodox
Christians."
"We shall see who can bear the severest temptations," said Alexis, with
a sad smile.
"But I will start off to Kovylsk at once if you can drive me," said
Father Cyril; "and I will ask for an interview with the archbishop.
Come, Alexis; I am a father too. I feel for you. I can guess the terror
little Velia feels, poor lamb."
He sat down on the bench, and took the trembling little girl into his
arms. The tears rolled slowly down his cheeks. He felt great shame in
the errand forced upon him. This terrible order, which he was called
upon to execute, seemed to him a monstrous attack upon a parent's
rights—those primal rights which existed before the Church was founded.
He sat in silence for some minutes, until he could command his voice.
From time to time, he stroked Velia's hair and patted her cheek. And
the child nestled close to him, much comforted.
"We must bestir ourselves, and do the best we can," he said, almost
stammering.
"And leave the result to God," added Alexis. "But how can I quit my
little daughter just now?"
"Let her go and play with my little ones," answered Father Cyril; "the
Matoushka will be like a mother to her. We will put her down at the
church-house; for we must tell my wife we shall be away for one or two
nights."