Part 27 (1/2)

I felt sorry that I had induced him to live through that terrible scene once more, and looked into his eyes, reproaching myself. But as I looked I turned pale myself; his eyes were pure and bright as a spring of water, calm and innocent as the eyes of a child.

The northerly gale raged outside, whirling the snow round impetuously.

I had a feeling of horror as I returned through the solitary miserable streets to my empty house on the bank of the Lena, The wild gusts of wind echoed from the taiga and the mountains surrounding it with dreadful groans, and I ran through the snowdrifts pursued by those groans.

But also indoors it was a terrible night for me. The gale howled round the walls with increasing fury, the taiga groaned more and more sadly.

And when I sprang from my bed and wearily pressed my burning forehead to the frozen window-pane, listening to that wild voice unconsciously, I heard those groans issue from the taiga as if pursued by the fiercest gusts of the storm, and mingle in one imploring groan: ”Oh, Most High, Most Holy, forgive!”

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Primeval forest.

[2] Vodka could only be procured at the stores belonging to the mine-owners, and was dealt out in limited quant.i.ties. On this account there was a flouris.h.i.+ng contraband trade. A gallon of even inferior quality was sold for a hundred roubles. A strong, sober miner, able to forgo his vodka and sell it, could make a good sum in this way.--_Author's note._

[3] Brodiaga--a criminal deported to Siberia, who has escaped from prison, or who, not having been sentenced to imprisonment, cannot find work, and has become a vagrant or bandit.

[4] The Poles deported to Siberia from Poland in the eighteenth century.

[5] ”Juntas”--boots without heels, with soft soles and wide legs.

[6] The Polish Revolution of 1863.

[7] The greeting commonly used by the peasants.

[8] _I.e._, about the Revolutionists' plans. Maciej is accused of being a spy.

TWO PRAYERS

BY ADAM SZYMANSKI

I.

Long ago, very long ago--or so it seems to me, for I see those days now as through a mist--for the first time in my life I heard a fine men's choir singing in unison in one of the largest churches of Podlasia. The church was filled to overflowing with a compact ma.s.s of human beings, who joined in the chants which streamed from the choir like burning lava. Loud at first, their voices pa.s.sed into sobbing until they died into a low and yet lower groan, imploring and scarcely audible.

My small body s.h.i.+vered as with fever. I pressed my burning forehead to the cold floor and folded my hands, stretching them out to G.o.d and begging Him to quiet the sorrowful sounds which were tearing my childish heart; I prayed that those people in the choir might sing less sadly, and that they might feel brighter and happier. ”Have mercy, have mercy, Lord,” I repeated with so much faith and confidence that I held my breath and waited after each appeal for the sound of a voice like thunder, which would smother the prayers and painful groans, so that the joyful Christmas hymn or the triumphant Easter ”Allelujah” might flow from the choir with healing balm upon the crowd of praying people. The last sobs were hushed; the last sighs of a thousand b.r.e.a.s.t.s fell with a deadened echo from the high vaulting on to the bowed heads praying below, and oppressed the suppliants with a sense of universal pain. Bent to the ground, they humiliated themselves almost to extinction. I was not conscious of those many bent heads, but only of their eyes, which, fixed on the figure of Christ, were addressing a last prayer to Him.

The faintest echo of prayers and sighs was lost in the deep vaulting; dead silence--an awful silence--reigned throughout the church; it seemed as if all the prayers of a thousand faithful wors.h.i.+ppers had been brought before a void, were dissolving into nothingness, and peris.h.i.+ng--unheard.

The awe of such a moment is terrifying, and the soothing strains of music alone make it endurable. Those tightened lips were silent, and the bruised hearts raised no sigh; but soft tones, resembling human voices, were floating above amid the vaulting, and descended faintly through the heavy atmosphere.

The lifeless organ had become animate under the touch of human fingers, and the crowd of wors.h.i.+ppers, hearing their own supplications as if rising from a stronger heart than theirs, were soothed by the musician's skill. Imploring and praying with fresh confidence, they were strengthened by renewed faith, until at length tears came, and in those tears they found relief.

It seemed as if the choir had been waiting for this moment, for scarcely were the tears seen on the people's faces before it sent forth another moving entreaty, and all hearts burnt with fresh ardour.

Once again the people groaned and prostrated themselves, weighed down by the load of sighs drawn from their aching hearts.

I groaned with them. I prayed still more fervently, stretching out my hands more beseechingly to the stern G.o.d. I held my breath still longer, always expecting a visible miracle. But G.o.d was silent, and my childish hopes were shattered.