feet, and not long previously an old lady, a village priest's wife
who had come to consult him, was so overcome by awe that she could
not utter a single word, and went empty away. And he, who could
never in his sermons bring himself to speak ill of people, never
reproached anyone because he was so sorry for them, was moved to
fury with the people who came to consult him, lost his temper and
flung their petitions on the floor. The whole time he had been here,
not one person had spoken to him genuinely, simply, as to a human
being; even his old mother seemed now not the same! And why, he
wondered, did she chatter away to Sisoy and laugh so much; while
with him, her son, she was grave and usually silent and constrained,
which did not suit her at all. The only person who behaved freely
with him and said what he meant was old Sisoy, who had spent his
whole life in the presence of bishops and had outlived eleven of
them. And so the bishop was at ease with him, although, of course,
he was a tedious and nonsensical man.

After the service on Tuesday, his holiness Pyotr was in the diocesan
bishop's house receiving petitions there; he got excited and angry,
and then drove home. He was as unwell as before; he longed to be
in bed, but he had hardly reached home when he was informed that a
young merchant called Erakin, who subscribed liberally to charities,
had come to see him about a very important matter. The bishop had
to see him. Erakin stayed about an hour, talked very loud, almost
shouted, and it was difficult to understand what he said.

"God grant it may," he said as he went away. "Most essential!
According to circumstances, your holiness! I trust it may!"

After him came the Mother Superior from a distant convent. And when