GRISHA
WE all felt a little uneasy in the thick darkness, so we pressed
close to one another and said nothing. Before long Grisha arrived
with his soft tread, carrying in one hand his staff and in the
other a tallow candle set in a brass candlestick. We scarcely
ventured to breathe.
"Our Lord Jesus Christ! Holy Mother of God! Father, Son, and
Holy Ghost!" he kept repeating, with the different intonations
and abbreviations which gradually become peculiar to persons who
are accustomed to pronounce the words with great frequency.
Still praying, he placed his staff in a corner and looked at the
bed; after which he began to undress. Unfastening his old black
girdle, he slowly divested himself of his torn nankeen kaftan,
and deposited it carefully on the back of a chair. His face had
now lost its usual disquietude and idiocy. On the contrary, it
had in it something restful, thoughtful, and even grand, while
all his movements were deliberate and intelligent.
Next, he lay down quietly in his shirt on the bed, made the sign
of the cross towards every side of him, and adjusted his chains
beneath his shirt--an operation which, as we could see from his
face, occasioned him considerable pain. Then he sat up again,
looked gravely at his ragged shirt, and rising and taking the
candle, lifted the latter towards the shrine where the images of
the saints stood. That done, he made the sign of the cross again,
and turned the candle upside down, when it went out with a
hissing noise.
Through the window (which overlooked the wood) the moon (nearly
full) was shining in such a way that one side of the tall white
figure of the idiot stood out in the pale, silvery moonlight,
while the other side was lost in the dark shadow which covered
the floor, walls, and ceiling. In the courtyard the watchman was
tapping at intervals upon his brass alarm plate. For a while
Grisha stood silently before the images and, with his large hands
pressed to his breast and his head bent forward, gave occasional
sighs. Then with difficulty he knelt down and began to pray.
At first he repeated some well-known prayers, and only accented a
word here and there. Next, he repeated thee same prayers, but
louder and with increased accentuation. Lastly he repeated them
again and with even greater emphasis, as well as with an evident
effort to pronounce them in the old Slavonic Church dialect.
Though disconnected, his prayers were very touching. He prayed
for all his benefactors (so he called every one who had received
him hospitably), with, among them, Mamma and ourselves. Next he
prayed for himself, and besought God to forgive him his sins, at
the same time repeating, "God forgive also my enemies!" Then,
moaning with the effort, he rose from his knees--only to fall to
the floor again and repeat his phrases afresh. At last he
regained his feet, despite the weight of the chains, which
rattled loudly whenever they struck the floor.
Woloda pinched me rudely in the leg, but I took no notice of that
(except that I involuntarily touched the place with my hand), as
I observed with a feeling of childish astonishment, pity, and
respect the words and gestures of Grisha. Instead of the laughter
and amusement which I had expected on entering the store-room, I
felt my heart beating and overcome.
Grisha continued for some time in this state of religious ecstasy
as he improvised prayers and repeated again and yet again, "Lord,
have mercy upon me!" Each time that he said, "Pardon me,
Lord, and teach me to do what Thou wouldst have done," he
pronounced the words with added earnestness and emphasis, as
though he expected an immediate answer to his petition, and then
fell to sobbing and moaning once more. Finally, he went down on
his knees again, folded his arms upon his breast, and remained
silent. I ventured to put my head round the door (holding my
breath as I did so), but Grisha still made no movement except for
the heavy sighs which heaved his breast. In the moonlight I could
see a tear glistening on the white patch of his blind eye.
"Yes, Thy will be done!" he exclaimed suddenly, with an
expression which I cannot describe, as, prostrating himself with
his forehead on the floor, he fell to sobbing like a child.
Much sand has run out since then, many recollections of the past
have faded from my memory or become blurred in indistinct
visions, and poor Grisha himself has long since reached the end
of his pilgrimage; but the impression which he produced upon me,
and the feelings which he aroused in my breast, will never leave
my mind. O truly Christian Grisha, your faith was so strong that
you could feel the actual presence of God; your love so great
that the words fell of themselves from your lips. You had no
reason to prove them, for you did so with your earnest praises of
His majesty as you fell to the ground speechless and in tears!
Nevertheless the sense of awe with which I had listened to Grisha
could not last for ever. I had now satisfied my curiosity, and,
being cramped with sitting in one position so long, desired to
join in the tittering and fun which I could hear going on in the
dark store-room behind me. Some one took my hand and whispered,
"Whose hand is this?" Despite the darkness, I knew by the touch
and the low voice in my ear that it was Katenka. I took her by
the arm, but she withdrew it, and, in doing so, pushed a cane
chair which was standing near. Grisha lifted his head looked
quietly about him, and, muttering a prayer, rose and made the
sign of the cross towards each of the four corners of the room.
