IN KOVYLSK
IN the meantime Michael and Paraska, who had set off at daybreak, were
far on their way across the steppe toward Kovylsk. Until they were
quite safe from recognition, Clava lay at the bottom of the telega, her
sweet little face peeping up from time to time and smiling merrily at
them. She was a small, delicate child, and was easily intimidated, for
she had been tenderly guarded from all unkindness and hardship. After a
while, Paraska took her on her lap, kissing her often, with a mother's
yearning after her own lost children. Her deepest sorrow had befallen
her some years ago. She was accustomed to grief.
But Michael was not yet benumbed by sorrow. He was troubled, sorely
troubled at leaving his home again; and above all at leaving Velia
behind. True, she could not be better off than in Father Cyril's
house; and though he knew but little of the perils and hardships of
the journey which lay before the exiles, he knew enough to make him
thankful that his young sister was not to share them. But should he
ever see her again? They would be separated by thousands of miles; and
he did not know for how many years his father's term of banishment
would run. He never realised as he did now how much he loved her.
Velia was four years younger than himself; and he could recollect her
as a little child, following him with tottering feet, and stretching
out her tiny arms to him. Would his mother be watching over her, as
he sometimes felt sure she was near to him? Velia had never felt her
presence as he felt it. Yet, if it was only a fancy that his mother
came to him, it was surely true that God cared for both him and Velia.
"Not a sparrow falleth to the ground without your Father! Are you not
much better than the birds?" he murmured to himself.
He was not afraid for himself. On the contrary, he looked forward
almost with pleasure to the long and exciting, though forced, journey
he was about to take. What were hardships to him? Many men encountered
them for the sake of money; others from a thirst for adventures. He
would be journeying with his father and his friend Sergius, every step
of the terrible wildernesses through which it was said they would have
to pass. He must keep up heart and courage, that his father might
never have the grief of seeing his spirits flag. Whatever happened,
he must show himself brave and patient and cheerful. He was strong,
and hardened to fatigue by the toils of the past winter. Surely if
a delicate little creature like Clava could live through the long
journey, there could not be anything very dreadful for boys like
Sergius and himself.
But he felt grieved when his thoughts reverted to Father Cyril; and
he began to realise that he might get into trouble as soon as it was
discovered that little Clava had been stolen away. Michael had written
a letter, which he had left on Clava's bed, imploring Father Cyril, for
God's sake, not to have the child pursued and claimed; begging him not
to betray them to Okhrim the Starosta, or to the police who were to
convey the women and children to Kovylsk. If the child was taken away
again, Tatiania would go mad; and nobody could say what severe measures
might be taken against Sergius and himself. Michael felt tolerably sure
Father Cyril would grant his petition, even at the risk of trouble to
himself.
When they were about half-way across the steppe, Paraska produced a
leather bag out of her pocket, and addressed Michael with tears in her
eyes, which were red and sunken with much weeping.
"Michael," she said, "going into exile wants all the money you can get.
I've been saving every kopek I could to go some day to my poor husband
Denim. I forsook him for the sake of my little boys. Take the money;
for there are many of you, and only one of me; and I fear I shall never
save enough."
"But, Paraska," he answered, "I think you can get leave to join your
husband, if you ask the governor. You might have come with us, if you
were willing to give up all hope of finding your children."
"Oh, why didn't I know?" she cried. "I shall never find my boys! I'll
come after you, if that's true, Michael. You'll see Demyan first; tell
him I'm coming soon."
They reached Kovylsk some hours before the arrival of the rough carts
bringing the women and children. Michael drove to the house of a
well-to-do tradesmen, Orthodox himself, but kindly disposed towards the
Stundists, as his wife was secretly a member of the persecuted sect.
He undertook to get Clava smuggled into the prison the next morning,
in time to pass out with the other families. Khariton had given her
name with those of Sergius and Marfa, and it was already entered on
the convoy-list; so no question would be raised on that account. He
promised also to look after Paraska, and get permission for her to join
the next exile party; and f that could not be done, to find work for
her. In Kovylsk it was much easier to escape the notice of the priests
than in the villages; although the archbishop and the consistory were
there.