SLEEP AND DEATH
TO Michael and Sergius it was a solemn charge to be entrusted with the
funds on which the Stundists were to subsist when they reached their
journey's end. To be sure, the convicts would still have the miserable
pittance allowed by the Government, but this would not suffice for the
women and children who accompanied them. Tatiania found an opportunity
the next day to stitch the rouble notes into the boys' coats. It was
a busy day; the baggage-waggons were unloaded, and winter clothes
got out. But they were damp and mildewed, for the rain and snow had
saturated the bags. The convicts receive their winter equipment from
the Government stores, which were at least dry and warm. They set out
again in renewed spirits.
It was well for the Stundists that Tatiania's precaution had been
carried into effect. A day or two after they started, and were crossing
the exposed steppe, over which a searching and freezing north wind was
blowing, Sergius and Michael went as usual at the midday halt to carry
food to Tatiania and Clava, who now never left the telega. The child
was sleeping, and Tatiania was very drowsy.
"Are you well, mother?" asked Sergius.
"Quite well, dear boy," she answered. "I've no more pain; and I'm not
tired even. But oh, so sleepy! Tuck the cloak over us, my son."
Sergius carefully folded the sheepskin cloak over her and Clava, and
bent down to kiss the pallid faces. Both were chilly.
"The captain says we shall reach Irkutsk before Christmas," he said
cheerily, "if we are not delayed by more storms."
"That's good news," she answered sleepily; "I'm glad for your father's
sake. Be good like him, my Sergius."
During the short afternoon a light fall of snow and sleet came on.
Every one of the cavalcade was covered with a fine, crisp powder. The
telegas looked like silvered chariots; and the horses drawing them were
beautifully white. Every blade of grass, and the bare stubble of the
cornfields, was delicately frosted over. It was a white procession,
long-drawn-out, passing through a white landscape. Towards the north
the sky was of a livid darkness; and the captain of the convoy ordered
a quick march.
"How beautiful it is!" exclaimed Michael.
"But it's terrible!" said Sergius.
They reached the half-way étape before the telegas came up, and were
ready to lift down Tatiania and little Clava. They had not stirred
since Sergius tucked the sheepskin round them; nor did they move when
he lifted it off, and called "Mother!"
They were fast asleep, in a profound and peaceful slumber, little Clava
locked in her mother's arms, never more to wake again to this world's
pain and anguish. No trouble like this could befall them, the boys said
to one another the next day, as they followed the telega which carried
the dead bodies to the nearest cemetery; nothing worse could happen.
Yet in their inmost hearts there lurked a dream of other losses.
Khariton looked fearfully ill to-day; and Alexis did not seem much
better. Each one of the Stundist band was terribly cast down. Their
wives and children were so exhausted and feeble they could hardly
hope, nay, they could hardly wish, they would live to reach Irkutsk.
Every now and then there were delays, made absolutely necessary from
snowstorms, which made it impossible to continue the march for days
together. Then came the alternative misery of semi-starvation. They
never had enough to eat, but in these weather-bound intervals Famine
laid its skeleton hand upon them. Christmas was past before they
reached Irkutsk.
This was the end of their calamitous journey. Here Paraska's husband,
Demyan, was already established, and probably awaiting their release
under police regulations. In this place they would probably be allowed
to settle down, thousands of miles from their native village. The
Stundists gathered together, in sad and solemn thanksgiving. Of the
nine women who had elected to go with them into Siberian exile, four
were lying in scattered graves along the route, never to be visited by
those who loved them. Of the fourteen children, only five were left;
Michael and Sergius being two of them.
Even while the survivors sang their usual evening hymn, "Oh, happy band
of pilgrims!" the tears rolled down their rugged and wasted faces, and
their voices faltered.
"We praise Thee, O Lord!" said Alexis.
"We praise Thee!" echoed the others.
"Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord!" said Alexis.
"They are blessed!" was the response.
"Blessed are ye when men persecute you for Christ's sake," he continued.
"We are blessed," they answered.
Then Alexis opened his Bible, and read these words—
"'The ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs
and everlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and
gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.
"'I, even I, am He that comforteth you: who art thou, that thou
shouldest be afraid of a man that shall die, . . . and hast feared
continually every day because of the fury of the oppressor, as if he
were ready to destroy? and where is the fury of the oppressor?
"'The captive exile hasteneth that he may be loosed, and that he should
not die in the pit, nor that his bread should fail. But I am the Lord
thy God, that divided the sea, whose waves roared. The Lord of hosts is
His name.
"'And I have put My words in thy mouth, and I have covered thee in the
shadow of Mine hand.'"
Then Alexis turned the leaves to the New Testament, and read again—
"'Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through
our Lord Jesus Christ:
"'By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we
stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.
"'And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that
tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience; and experience,
hope;
"'And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad
in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.'"
Over the faces of the women there stole an expression of placid
resignation. The men looked at one another with exultation in their
eyes. What were these light afflictions compared with the glory that
would follow?