“He was here, he was, he left barely an hour ago!”
We’d go rushing after him, and not catch up with him!
And then suddenly, during one of these marches, Levonty and I got to arguing. I said, “We must go to the right,” and he said, “To the left,” and in the end he almost argued me down, but I insisted on my way. But we went on and on, and in the end I saw we’d wound up I don’t know where, and further on there was no path, no trail.
I say to the youth:
“Let’s turn back, Levonty!”
And he replies:
“No, I can’t walk anymore, uncle—I have no strength.”
I get all in a flutter and say:
“What’s the matter, child?”
And he replies:
“Don’t you see I’m shaking with fever?”
And I see that he is, in fact, trembling all over, and his eyes are wandering. And how, my good sirs, did all this happen so suddenly? He hadn’t complained, he had walked briskly, and suddenly he sits down on the grass in the woods, puts his head on a rotten stump, and says:
“Ow, my head, my head! Oh, my head’s burning with fiery flames!
I can’t walk, I can’t go another step!” And the poor lad even sinks to the ground and falls over.
It happened towards evening.
I was terribly frightened, and while we waited to see if he’d recover from his ailment, night fell; the time was autumnal, dark, the place was unknown, only pines and firs all around, mighty as an archaic forest, and the youth was simply dying. What was I to do? I say to him in tears:
“Levontiushka, dear heart, make an effort, maybe we’ll find a place for the night.”
But his head was drooping like a cut flower, and he murmured as if in sleep:
“Don’t touch me, Uncle Mark; don’t touch me, and don’t be afraid.”
I say:
“For pity’s sake, Levonty, how can I not be afraid in such a deep thicket?”
And he says:
“He who sleeps not and watches will protect.”
I think: “Lord, what’s the matter with him?” And, fearful myself, all the same I started listening, and from far away in the forest I heard something like a crunching … “Merciful God,” I think, “that must be a wild beast, and he’s going to tear us to pieces!” And I no longer call to Levonty, because I see it’s like he’s flown out of himself and is hovering somewhere, but only pray: “Angel of Christ, protect us in this terrible hour!” And the crunching is coming nearer and nearer, and now it’s right next to us … Here, gentlemen, I must confess to you my great baseness: I was so scared that I abandoned the sick Levonty where he lay and climbed a tree more nimbly than a squirrel, drew our little saber, and sat on a branch waiting to see what would happen, my teeth clacking like a frightened wolf’s … And suddenly I noticed in the darkness, which my eyes had grown used to, that something had come out of the forest, looking quite shapeless at first—I couldn’t tell if it was a beast or a robber—but I began to peer and made out that it was neither a beast nor a robber, but a very small old man in a skullcap, and I could even see that he had an axe tucked in his belt, and on his back a big bundle of firewood, and he came out into the clearing. He sniffed, sniffed the air several times, as if he were picking up scents all around, and suddenly threw the bundle on the ground and, as if he’d scented a man, went straight to my comrade. He went up to him, bent over, looked in his face, took him by the hand, and said:
“Stand up, brother!”
And what do you think? I see him raise Levonty, lead him straight to his bundle, and place it on his shoulders. And he says:
“Carry it behind me!”
And Levonty carries it.
XI
You can imagine, my dear sirs, how frightened I must have been by such a wonder! Where had this commanding, quiet little old man appeared from, and how was it that my Levonty, who had just been as if given over to death and unable to raise his head, was now carrying a bundle of wood!
I quickly jumped down from the tree, put the saber behind my back on its cord, broke off a young tree for a big stick just in case, went after them, and soon caught up with them and saw: the little old man goes on ahead, and looks exactly as he had seemed to me at first—small and hunched over, his wispy little beard like white soapsuds; and behind him walks my Levonty, stepping briskly in his footsteps and not looking at me. I tried several times to address him and to touch him with my hand, but he paid no attention to me and went on walking as if in his sleep.
Then I run to the little old man from the side and say:
“My good-honest man!”
And he replies:
“What is it?”
“Where are you leading us?”
“I don’t lead anyone anywhere,” he says. “The Lord leads us all!”
And with that word he suddenly stopped: and I saw before us a low wall and a gateway, and in the gateway a little door, and the old man began to knock on this door and call out:
“Brother Miron! Hey, brother Miron!”
And an insolent voice rudely replies:
“Again you drag yourself here at night. Sleep in the forest! I won’t let you in!”
But the old man begged again, entreating gently:
“Let me in, brother!”
The insolent fellow suddenly opened the door, and I saw it was a man in the same kind of skullcap as the old man’s, only he was very stern and rude, and just as the old man stepped across the threshold, he shoved him so that he almost fell.
“God save you, brother mine, for your service!” said the old man.
“Lord,” I thought, “where have we landed!” And suddenly it was as if lightning struck me and lit me up.
“Merciful Savior,” it dawned on me, “if this isn’t Pamva the wrathless! It would be better,” I think, “for me to perish in the thick of the forest, or to come upon some beast’s or robber’s den, than to be under his roof.”
And once he had led us into the small hut and lit a yellow wax candle, I guessed straight off that we were indeed in a forest hermitage, and, unable to stand it any longer, I said:
“Forgive me, pious man, for asking you: is it good for me and my comrade to remain here where you’ve brought us?”
And he replies:
“All the earth is the Lord’s and blessed are all who dwell in it24—lie down, sleep!”
“No, allow me to inform you,” I say, “that we are of the old belief.”
“We’re all members of the one body of Christ! He will gather us all together!”
And with that he led us to a corner, where a meager bed of bast matting had been made on the floor, with a round block of wood covered with straw at the head, and, now to us both, he again says:
“Sleep!”
And what then? My Levonty, as an obedient youth, falls onto it at once, but I, pursuing my apprehensions, say:
“Forgive me, man of God, one more question …”
He replies:
“What is there to ask? God knows everything.”
“No,” I say, “tell me: what is your name?”
And he, with a totally unsuitable, womanish singsong, says:
“My name is lucky: they call me ducky”—and with these frivolous words he crawled off with his candle stub to some tiny closet, small as a wooden coffin, but the insolent one shouted at him again from behind the walclass="underline"
“Don’t you dare light a candle! You’ll burn down the cell! You pray enough from books in the daytime; now pray in the dark!”
“I won’t, brother Miron,” he replies, “I won’t. God save you!”
And he blew out the candle.
I whisper:
“Father, who’s that yelling at you so rudely?”
And he replies:
“That’s my lay brother Miron … a good man, he watches over me.”
“Well, that’s that!” I think. “It’s the hermit Pamva! It’s none other than him, the envyless and wrathless. Here’s real trouble! He’s found us, and now he’s going to rot us the way gangrene rots fat. There’s only one thing left, to carry Levonty away from here early tomorrow morning and flee the place, so he won’t know where we’ve been.” Holding to this plan, I decided not to sleep and watch for the first light, so as to waken the youth and flee.