Father Alexyei's Story

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Title:     Father Alexyei's Story
Author: Ivan Turgenev [More Titles by Turgenev]

Translated From The Russian
By Isabel Hapgood

(1877)

Twenty years ago I was obliged--in my capacity of private inspector--to make the circuit of all my aunt's rather numerous estates. The parish priests, with whom I regarded it as my duty to make acquaintance, proved to be individuals of pretty much one pattern, and made after one model, as it were. At length, in about the last of the estates which I was inspecting, I hit upon a priest who did not resemble his brethren. He was a very aged man, almost decrepit; and had it not been for the urgent entreaties of his parishioners, who loved and respected him, he would long before have petitioned to be retired that he might rest. Two peculiarities impressed me in Father Alexyei (that was the priest's name). In the first place, he not only asked nothing for himself but announced plainly that he required nothing; and, in the second place, I have never beheld in any human face a more sorrowful, thoroughly indifferent--what is called an "overwhelmed"--expression. The features of that face were of the ordinary rustic type: a wrinkled forehead, small grey eyes, a large nose, a wedge-shaped beard, a swarthy, sunburned skin.... But the expression! ... the expression!... In that dim gaze life barely burned, and sadly at that; and his voice also was, somehow, lifeless and dim.

I fell ill and kept my bed for several days. Father Alexyei dropped in to see me in the evenings, not to chat, but to play "fool."[16] The game of cards seemed to divert him more than it did me. One day, after having been left "the fool" several times in succession (which delighted Father Alexyei not a little), I turned the conversation on his past life, on the afflictions which had left on him such manifest traces. Father Alexyei remained obdurate for a long time at first, but ended by relating to me his story. He must have taken a liking to me for some reason or other. Otherwise he would not have been so frank with me.

FOOTNOTE: [16] A simple card-game.--TRANSLATOR.

I shall endeavour to transmit his story in his own words. Father Alexyei talked very simply and intelligently, without any seminary or provincial tricks and turns of speech. It was not the first time I had noticed that Russians, of all classes and callings, who have been violently shattered and humbled express themselves precisely in such language.

... I had a good and sedate wife [thus he began], I loved her heartily, and we begat eight children. One of my sons became a bishop, and died not so very long ago, in his diocese. I shall now tell you about my other son,--Yakoff was his name. I sent him to the seminary in the town of T----, and soon began to receive the most comforting reports about him. He was the best pupil in all the branches! Even at home, in his boyhood, he had been distinguished for his diligence and discretion; a whole day would sometimes pass without one's hearing him ... he would be sitting all the time over his book, reading. He never caused me and my wife[17] the slightest displeasure; he was a meek lad. Only sometimes he was thoughtful beyond his years, and his health was rather weak. Once something remarkable happened to him. He left the house at daybreak, on St. Peter's day,[18] and was gone almost all the morning. At last he returned. My wife and I ask him: "Where hast thou been?"

FOOTNOTES:
[17] The word used is _popadya_, the feminine form
of _pop(e)_, or priest. _Svyashtchennik_ is, however,
more commonly used for priest. --TRANSLATOR.

[18] June 29 (O. S.), July 12 (N. S.).--TRANSLATOR.

"I have been for a ramble in the forest," says he, "and there I met a certain little green old man, who talked a great deal with me, and gave me such savoury nuts!"

"What little green old man art thou talking about?" we ask him.

"I don't know," says he; "I never saw him before. He was a little old man with a hump, and he kept shifting from one to the other of his little feet, and laughing--and he was all green, just like a leaf."

"What," say we, "and was his face green also?"

"Yes, his face, and his hair, and even his eyes."

Our son had never lied to us; but this time my wife and I had our doubts.

"Thou must have fallen asleep in the forest, in the heat of the day, and have seen that old man in thy dreams."

"I wasn't asleep at all," says he. "Why, don't you believe me?" says he. "See here, I have one of the nuts left in my pocket."

Yakoff pulled the nut out of his pocket and showed it to us.--The kernel was small, in the nature of a chestnut, and rather rough; it did not resemble our ordinary nuts. I laid it aside, and intended to show it to the doctor ... but it got lost.... I did not find it again.

Well, sir, so we sent him to the seminary, and, as I have already informed you, he rejoiced us by his success. So my spouse and I assumed that he would turn out a fine man! When he came for a sojourn at home it was a pleasure to look at him; he was so comely, and there was no mischief about him;--every one liked him, every one congratulated us. Only he was still rather thin of body, and there was no real good rosiness in his face. So then, he was already in his nineteenth year, and his education would soon be finished. When suddenly we receive from him a letter.--He writes to us: "Dear father and mother, be not wroth with me, permit me to be a layman;[19] my heart does not incline to the ecclesiastical profession, I dread the responsibility, I am afraid I shall sin--doubts have taken hold upon me! Without your parental permission and blessing I shall venture on nothing--but one thing I will tell you; I am afraid of myself, for I have begun to think a great deal."

FOOTNOTE:
[19] In former days the sons of priests generally
became priests. It is still so, in a measure.
--TRANSLATOR.

I assure you, my dear sir, that this letter made me very sad,--as though a boar-spear had pricked my heart,--for I saw that I should have no one to take my place![20] My eldest son was a monk; and this one wanted to abandon his vocation altogether. I was also pained because priests from our family have lived in our parish for close upon two hundred years. But I thought to myself: "There's no use in kicking against the pricks; evidently, so it was predestined for him. What sort of a pastor would he be if he has admitted doubt to his mind?" I took counsel with my wife, and wrote to him in the following sense:

FOOTNOTE:
[20] Therefore, there would be no one to maintain
his widow and daughters, unless some young man could
be found to marry one of the daughters, be ordained,
take the parish, and assume the support of the family.
--TRANSLATOR.

"Think it over well, my son Yakoff; measure ten times before you cut off once--there are great difficulties in the worldly service, cold and hunger, and scorn for our caste! And thou must know beforehand that no one will lend a hand to aid; so see to it that thou dost not repine afterward. My desire, as thou knowest, has always been that thou shouldst succeed me; but if thou really hast come to cherish doubts as to thy calling and hast become unsteady in the faith, then it is not my place to restrain thee. The Lord's will be done! Thy mother and I will not refuse thee our blessing."

Yakoff answered me with a grateful letter. "Thou hast rejoiced me, dear father," said he. "It is my intention to devote myself to the profession of learning, and I have some protection; I shall enter the university and become a doctor, for I feel a strong bent for science." I read Yashka's letter and became sadder than before; but I did not share my grief with any one. My old woman caught a severe cold about that time and died--from that same cold, or the Lord took her to Himself because He loved her, I know not which. I used to weep and weep because I was a lonely widower--but what help was there for that?[21] So it had to be, you know. And I would have been glad to go into the earth ... but it is hard ... it will not open. And I was expecting my son; for he had notified me: "Before I go to Moscow," he said, "I shall look in at home." And he did come to the parental roof, but did not remain there long. It seemed as though something were urging him on; he would have liked, apparently, to fly on wings to Moscow, to his beloved university! I began to question him as to his doubts. "What was the cause of them?" I asked. But I did not get much out of him. One idea had pushed itself into his head, and that was the end of it! "I want to help my neighbours," he said.--Well, sir, he left me. I don't believe he took a penny with him, only a few clothes. He had such reliance on himself! And not without reason. He passed an excellent examination, matriculated as student, obtained lessons in private houses.... He was very strong on the ancient languages! And what think you? He took it into his head to send me money. I cheered up a little,--not on account of the money, of course,--I sent that back to him, and even scolded him; but I cheered up because I saw that the young fellow would make his way in the world. But my rejoicing did not last long....

FOOTNOTE:
[21] Parish priests (the White Clergy) must marry
before they are ordained sub-deacon, and are not allowed
to remarry in the Holy Catholic Church of the East.
--TRANSLATOR.

He came to me for his first vacation.... And, what marvel is this? I do not recognise my Yakoff! He had grown so tiresome and surly,--you couldn't get a word out of him. And his face had changed also: he had grown about ten years older. He had been taciturn before, there's no denying that! At the slightest thing he would grow shy and blush like a girl.... But when he raised his eyes, you could see that all was bright in his soul! But now it was quite different. He was not shy, but he held aloof, like a wolf, and was always looking askance. He had neither a smile nor a greeting for any one--he was just like a stone! If I undertook to interrogate him, he would either remain silent or snarl. I began to wonder whether he had taken to drink--which God forbid!--or had conceived a passion for cards; or whether something in the line of a weakness for women had happened to him. In youth love-longings act powerfully,--well, and in such a large city as Moscow bad examples and occasions are not lacking. But no; nothing of that sort was discernible. His drink was kvas[22] and water; he never looked at the female sex--and had no intercourse with people in general. And what was most bitter of all to me, he did not have his former confidence in me; a sort of indifference had made its appearance, just as though everything belonging to him had become loathsome to him. I turned the conversation on the sciences, on the university, but even there could get no real answer. He went to church, but he was not devoid of peculiarities there also; everywhere he was grim and scowling, but in church he seemed always to be grinning.

FOOTNOTE:
[22]A sourish, non-intoxicating beverage, prepared
by putting water on rye meal or the crusts of sour
black rye bread and allowing it to ferment.
--TRANSLATOR.

After this fashion he spent six weeks with me, then went back to Moscow. From Moscow he wrote to me twice, and it seemed to me, from his letters, as though he were regaining his sensibilities. But picture to yourself my surprise, my dear sir! Suddenly, in the very middle of the winter, just before the Christmas holidays, he presents himself before me!

"How didst thou get here? How is this? What's the matter? I know that thou hast no vacation at this time.--Dost thou come from Moscow?"--I ask.

"Yes."

"And how about ... the university?"

"I have left the university."

"Thou hast left it?"

"Just so."

"For good?"

"For good."

"But art thou ill, pray, Yakoff?"

"No, father," says he, "I am not ill; but just don't bother me and question me, dear father, or I will go away from here--and that's the last thou wilt ever see of me."

Yakoff tells me that he is not ill, but his face is such that I am fairly frightened. It was dreadful, dark--not human, actually!--His cheeks were drawn, his cheek-bones projected, he was mere skin and bone; his voice sounded as though it proceeded from a barrel ... while his eyes.... O Lord and Master! what eyes!--menacing, wild, incessantly darting from side to side, and it was impossible to catch them; his brows were knit, his lips seemed to be twisted on one side.... What had happened to my Joseph Most Fair,[23] to my quiet lad? I cannot comprehend it. "Can he have gone crazy?" I say to myself. He roams about like a spectre by night, he does not sleep,--and then, all of a sudden, he will take to staring into a corner as though he were completely benumbed.... It was enough to scare one!

FOOTNOTE:
[23] One of the ancient religious ballads sung by the "wandering cripples." Joseph (son of Jacob) is called by this appellation, and also a "tzarevitch," or king's son. For a brief account of these ballads see: "The Epic Songs of Russia" (Introduction), and Chapter I in "A Survey of Russian Literature" (I. F. Hapgood). This particular ballad is mentioned on page 22 of the last-named book.--TRANSLATOR.

Although he had threatened to leave the house if I did not leave him in peace, yet surely I was his father! My last hope was ruined--yet I was to hold my tongue! So one day, availing myself of an opportunity, I began to entreat Yakoff with tears, I began to adjure him by the memory of his dead mother:

"Tell me," I said, "as thy father in the flesh and in the spirit, Yasha, what aileth thee? Do not kill me; explain thyself, lighten thy heart! Can it be that thou hast ruined some Christian soul? If so, repent!"

"Well, dear father," he suddenly says to me (this took place toward nightfall), "thou hast moved me to compassion. I will tell thee the whole truth. I have not ruined any Christian soul--but my own soul is going to perdition."

"How is that?"

"In this way...." And thereupon Yakoff raised his eyes to mine for the first time.--"It is going on four months now," he began.... But suddenly he broke off and began to breathe heavily.

"What about the fourth month? Tell me, do not make me suffer!"

"This is the fourth month that I have been seeing him."

"Him? Who is he?"

"Why, the person ... whom it is awkward to mention at night."

I fairly turned cold all over and fell to quaking.

"What?!" I said, "dost thou see _him_?"

"Yes."

"And dost thou see him now?"

"Yes."

"Where?" And I did not dare to turn round, and we both spoke in a whisper.

"Why, yonder ..." and he indicated the spot with his eyes ... "yonder, in the corner."

I summoned up my courage and looked at the corner; there was nothing there.

"Why, good gracious, there is nothing there, Yakoff!"

"_Thou_ dost not see him, but I do."

Again I glanced round ... again nothing. Suddenly there recurred to my mind the little old man in the forest who had given him the chestnut. "What does he look like?" I said.... "Is he green?"

"No, he is not green, but black."

"Has he horns?"

"No, he is like a man,--only all black."

As Yakoff speaks he displays his teeth in a grin and turns as pale as a corpse, and huddles up to me in terror; and his eyes seem on the point of popping out of his head, and he keeps staring at the corner.

"Why, it is a shadow glimmering faintly," I say. "That is the blackness from a shadow, but thou mistakest it for a man."

"Nothing of the sort!--And I see his eyes: now he is rolling up the whites, now he is raising his hand, he is calling me."

"Yakoff, Yakoff, thou shouldst try to pray; this obsession would disperse. Let God arise and His enemies shall be scattered!"

"I have tried," says he, "but it has no effect."

"Wait, wait, Yakoff, do not lose thy courage. I will fumigate with incense; I will recite a prayer; I will sprinkle holy water around thee."

Yakoff merely waved his hand. "I believe neither in thy incense nor in holy water; they don't help worth a farthing. I cannot get rid of him now. Ever since he came to me last summer, on one accursed day, he has been my constant visitor, and he cannot be driven away, Understand this, father, and do not wonder any longer at my behaviour--and do not torment me."

"On what day did he come to thee?" I ask him, and all the while I am making the sign of the cross over him. "Was it not when thou didst write about thy doubts?"

Yakoff put away my hand.

"Let me alone, dear father," says he, "don't excite me to wrath lest worse should come of it. I'm not far from laying hands on myself, as it is."

You can imagine, my dear sir, how I felt when I heard that.... I remember that I wept all night. "How have I deserved such wrath from the Lord?" I thought to myself.

At this point Father Alexyei drew from his pocket a checked handkerchief and began to blow his nose, and stealthily wiped his eyes, by the way.

A bad time began for us then [he went on]. I could think of but one thing: how to prevent him from running away, or--which the Lord forbid!--of actually doing himself some harm! I watched his every step, and was afraid to enter into conversation.--And there dwelt near us at that time a neighbour, the widow of a colonel, Marfa Savishna was her name; I cherished a great respect for her, because she was a quiet, sensible woman, in spite of the fact that she was young and comely. I was in the habit of going to her house frequently, and she did not despise my vocation.[24] Not knowing, in my grief and anguish, what to do, I just told her all about it.--At first she was greatly alarmed, and even thoroughly frightened; but later on she became thoughtful. For a long time she deigned to sit thus, in silence; and then she expressed a wish to see my son and converse with him. And I felt that I ought without fail to comply with her wish; for it was not feminine curiosity which prompted it in this case, but something else.

FOOTNOTE:
[24] Ecclesiastics are regarded as plebeians by
the gentry or nobles in Russia.--TRANSLATOR.

On returning home I began to persuade Yakoff. "Come with me to see the colonel's widow," I said to him.

He began to flourish his legs and arms!

"I won't go to her," says he, "not on any account! What shall I talk to her about?" He even began to shout at me. But at last I conquered him, and hitching up my little sledge, I drove him to Marfa Savishna's, and, according to our compact, I left him alone with her. I was surprised at his having consented so speedily. Well, never mind,--we shall see. Three or four hours later my Yakoff returns.

"Well," I ask, "how did our little neighbour please thee?"

He made me no answer. I asked him again.

"She is a virtuous woman," I said.--"I suppose she was amiable with thee?"

"Yes," he says, "she is not like the others."

I saw that he seemed to have softened a little. And I made up my mind to question him then and there....

"And how about the obsession?" I said.

Yakoff looked at me as though I had lashed him with a whip, and again made no reply. I did not worry him further, and left the room; and an hour later I went to the door and peeped through the keyhole.... And what do you think?--My Yasha was asleep! He was lying on the couch and sleeping. I crossed myself several times in succession. "May the Lord send Marfa Savishna every blessing!" I said. "Evidently, she has managed to touch his embittered heart, the dear little dove!"

The next day I see Yakoff take his cap.... I think to myself: "Shall I ask him whither he is going?--But no, better not ask ... it certainly must be to her!"... And, in point of fact, Yakoff did set off for Marfa Savishna's house--and sat with her still longer than before; and on the day following he did it again! Then again, the next day but one! My spirits began to revive, for I saw that a change was coming over my son, and his face had grown quite different, and it was becoming possible to look into his eyes: he did not turn away. He was just as depressed as ever, but his former despair and terror had disappeared. But before I had recovered my cheerfulness to any great extent everything again broke off short! Yakoff again became wild, and again it was impossible to approach him. He sat locked up in his little room, and went no more to the widow's.

"Can it be possible," I thought, "that he has hurt her feelings in some way, and she has forbidden him the house?--But no," I thought ... "although he is unhappy he would not dare to do such a thing; and besides, she is not that sort of woman."

At last I could endure it no longer, and I interrogated him: "Well, Yakoff, how about our neighbour?... Apparently thou hast forgotten her altogether."

But he fairly roared at me:--"Our neighbour? Dost thou want _him_ to jeer at me?"

"What?" I say.--Then he even clenched his fists and ... got perfectly furious.

"Yes!" he says; and formerly he had only towered up after a fashion, but now he began to laugh and show his teeth.--"Away! Begone!"

To whom these words were addressed I know not! My legs would hardly bear me forth, to such a degree was I frightened. Just imagine: his face was the colour of red copper, he was foaming at the mouth, his voice was hoarse, exactly as though some one were choking him!... And that very same day I went--I, the orphan of orphans--to Marfa Savishna ... and found her in great affliction. Even her outward appearance had undergone a change: she had grown thin in the face. But she would not talk with me about my son. Only one thing she did say: that no human aid could effect anything in that case. "Pray, father," she said,--and then she presented me with one hundred rubles,--"for the poor and sick of your parish," she said. And again she repeated: "Pray!"--O Lord! As if I had not prayed without that--prayed day and night!

Here Father Alexyei again pulled out his handkerchief, and again wiped away his tears, but not by stealth this time, and after resting for a little while, he resumed his cheerless narrative.

Yakoff and I then began to descend as a snowball rolls down hill, and both of us could see that an abyss lay at the foot of the hill; but how were we to hold back, and what measures could we take? And it was utterly impossible to conceal this; my entire parish was greatly disturbed, and said: "The priest's son has gone mad; he is possessed of devils,--and the authorities ought to be informed of all this."--And people infallibly would have informed the authorities had not my parishioners taken pity on me ... for which I thank them. In the meantime winter was drawing to an end, and spring was approaching.--And such a spring as God sent!--fair and bright, such as even the old people could not remember: the sun shone all day long, there was no wind, and the weather was warm! And then a happy thought occurred to me: to persuade Yakoff to go off with me to do reverence to Mitrofany, in Voronezh. "If that last remedy is of no avail," I thought, "well, then, there is but one hope left--the grave!"

So I was sitting one day on the porch just before evening, and the sunset glow was flaming in the sky, and the larks were warbling, and the apple-trees were in bloom, and the grass was growing green.... I was sitting and meditating how I could communicate my intention to Yakoff. Suddenly, lo and behold! he came out on the porch; he stood, gazed around, sighed, and sat down on the step by my side. I was even frightened out of joy, but I did nothing except hold my tongue. But he sits and looks at the sunset glow, and not a word does he utter either. But it seemed to me as though he had become softened, the furrows on his brow had been smoothed away, his eyes had even grown bright.... A little more, it seemed, and a tear would have burst forth! On beholding such a change in him I--excuse me!--grew bold.

"Yakoff," I said to him, "do thou hearken to me without anger...." And then I informed him of my intention; how we were both to go to Saint Mitrofany on foot; and it is about one hundred and fifty versts to Voronezh from our parts; and how pleasant it would be for us two, in the spring chill, having risen before dawn, to walk and walk over the green grass, along the highway; and how, if we made proper obeisance and prayed before the shrine of the holy man, perhaps--who knows?--the Lord God would show mercy upon us, and he would receive healing, of which there had already been many instances. And just imagine my happiness, my dear sir!

"Very well," says Yakoff, only he does not turn round, but keeps on gazing at the sky.--"I consent. Let us go."

I was fairly stupefied....

"My friend," I say, "my dear little dove, my benefactor!"... But he asks me:

"When shall we set out?"

"Why, to-morrow, if thou wilt," I say.

So on the following day we started. We slung wallets over our shoulders, took staves in our hands, and set forth. For seven whole days we trudged on, and all the while the weather favoured us, and was even downright wonderful! There was neither sultry heat nor rain; the flies did not bite, the dust did not make us itch. And every day my Yakoff acquired a better aspect. I must tell you that Yakoff had not been in the habit of seeing _that one_ in the open air, but had felt him behind him, close to his back, or his shadow had seemed to be gliding alongside, which troubled my son greatly. But on this occasion nothing of that sort happened, and nothing made its appearance. We talked very little together ... but how greatly at our ease we felt--especially I! I saw that my poor boy was coming to life again. I cannot describe to you, my dear sir, what my feelings were then.--Well, we reached Voronezh at last. We cleaned up ourselves and washed ourselves, and went to the cathedral, to the holy man. For three whole days we hardly left the temple. How many prayer-services we celebrated, how many candles we placed before the holy pictures! And everything was going well, everything was fine; the days were devout, the nights were tranquil; my Yakoff slept like an infant. He began to talk to me of his own accord. He would ask: "Dost thou see nothing, father dear?" and smile. "No, I see nothing," I would answer.--What more could be demanded? My gratitude to the saint was unbounded.

Three days passed; I said to Yakoff: "Well, now, dear son, the matter has been set in order; there's a festival in our street. One thing remains to be done; do thou make thy confession and receive the communion; and then, with God's blessing, we will go our way, and after having got duly rested, and worked a bit on the farm to increase thy strength, thou mayest bestir thyself and find a place--and Marfa Savishna will certainly help us in that," I said.

"No," said Yakoff, "why should we trouble her? But I will take her a ring from Mitrofany's hand."

Thereupon I was greatly encouraged. "See to it," I said, "that thou takest a silver ring, not a gold one,--not a wedding-ring!"

My Yakoff flushed up and merely repeated that it was not proper to trouble her, but immediately assented to all the rest.--We went to the cathedral on the following day; my Yakoff made his confession, and prayed so fervently before it! And then he went forward to take the communion. I was standing a little to one side, and did not feel the earth under me for joy.... It is no sweeter for the angels in heaven! But as I look--what is the meaning of that?--My Yakoff has received the communion, but does not go to sip the warm water and wine![25] He is standing with his back to me.... I go to him.

FOOTNOTE:
[25]In the Catholic Church of the East the communion is received fasting. A little to one side of the priest stands a cleric holding a platter of blessed bread, cut in small bits, and a porringer of warm water and wine, which (besides their symbolical significance) are taken by each communicant after the Holy Elements, in order that there may be something interposed between the sacrament and ordinary food.--TRANSLATOR.

"Yakoff," I say, "why art thou standing here?"

He suddenly wheels round. Will you believe it, I sprang back, so frightened was I!--His face had been dreadful before, but now it had become ferocious, frightful! He was as pale as death, his hair stood on end, his eyes squinted.... I even lost my voice with terror. I tried to speak and could not; I was perfectly benumbed.... And he fairly rushed out of the church! I ran after him ... but he fled straight to the tavern where we had put up, flung his wallet over his shoulder, and away he flew!

"Whither?" I shouted to him. "Yakoff, what aileth thee? Stop, wait!"

But Yakoff never uttered a word in reply to me, but ran like a hare, and it was utterly impossible to overtake him! He disappeared from sight. I immediately turned back, hired a cart, and trembled all over, and all I could say was: "O Lord!" and, "O Lord!" And I understood nothing: some calamity had descended upon us! I set out for home, for I thought, "He has certainly fled thither."--And so he had. Six versts out of the town I espied him; he was striding along the highway. I overtook him, jumped out of the cart, and rushed to him.

"Yasha! Yasha!"--He halted, turned his face toward me, but kept his eyes fixed on the ground and compressed his lips. And say what I would to him, he stood there just like a statue, and one could just see that he was breathing. And at last he trudged on again along the highway.--What was there to do? I followed him....

Akh, what a journey that was, my dear sir! Great as had been our joy on the way to Voronezh, just so great was the horror of the return! I would try to speak to him, and he would begin to gnash his teeth at me over his shoulder, precisely like a tiger or a hyena! Why I did not go mad I do not understand to this day! And at last, one night, in a peasant's chicken-house, he was sitting on the platform over the oven and dangling his feet and gazing about on all sides, when I fell on my knees before him and began to weep, and besought him with bitter entreaty:

"Do not slay thy old father outright," I said; "do not let him fall into despair--tell me what has happened to thee?"

He glanced at me as though he did not see who was before him, and suddenly began to speak, but in such a voice that it rings in my ears even now.

"Listen, daddy," said he. "Dost thou wish to know the whole truth? When I had taken the communion, thou wilt remember, and still held the particle[26] in my mouth, suddenly _he_ (and that was in the church, in the broad daylight!) stood in front of me, just as though he had sprung out of the ground, and whispered to me ... (but he had never spoken to me before)--whispered: 'Spit it out, and grind it to powder!' I did so; I spat it out, and ground it under foot. And now it must be that I am lost forever, for every sin shall be forgiven, save the sin against the Holy Spirit...."

FOOTNOTE:
[26]That is, the particle of bread dipped in
the wine, which is placed in the mouth by the
priest with the sacramental spoon. --TRANSLATOR.

And having uttered these dreadful words, my son threw himself back on the platform and I dropped down on the floor of the hut.... My legs failed me....

Father Alexyei paused for a moment, and covered his eyes with his hand.

But why should I weary you longer [he went on], and myself? My son and I dragged ourselves home, and there he soon afterward expired, and I lost my Yasha. For several days before his death he neither ate nor drank, but kept running back and forth in the room and repeating that there could be no forgiveness for his sin.... But he never saw _him_ again. "He has ruined my soul," he said; "and why should he come any more now?" And when Yakoff took to his bed, he immediately sank into unconsciousness, and thus, without repentance, like a senseless worm, he went from this life to life eternal....

But I will not believe that the Lord judged harshly....

And among other reasons why I do not believe it is, that he looked so well in his coffin; he seemed to have grown young again and resembled the Yakoff of days gone by. His face was so tranquil and pure, his hair curled in little rings, and there was a smile on his lips. Marfa Savishna came to look at him, and said the same thing. She encircled him all round with flowers, and laid flowers on his heart, and set up the gravestone at her own expense.

And I was left alone.... And that is why, my dear sir, you have beheld such great grief on my face.... It will never pass off---and it cannot.

I wanted to speak a word of comfort to Father Alexyei ... but could think of none. We parted soon after.

[The end]
Ivan Turgenev's Short Story: Father Alexyei's Story

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