she had gone they began ringing for vespers. He had to go to church.

In the evening the monks sang harmoniously, with inspiration. A
young priest with a black beard conducted the service; and the
bishop, hearing of the Bridegroom who comes at midnight and of the
Heavenly Mansion adorned for the festival, felt no repentance for
his sins, no tribulation, but peace at heart and tranquillity. And
he was carried back in thought to the distant past, to his childhood
and youth, when, too, they used to sing of the Bridegroom and of
the Heavenly Mansion; and now that past rose up before him--living,
fair, and joyful as in all likelihood it never had been. And perhaps
in the other world, in the life to come, we shall think of the
distant past, of our life here, with the same feeling. Who knows?
The bishop was sitting near the altar. It was dark; tears flowed
down his face. He thought that here he had attained everything a
man in his position could attain; he had faith and yet everything
was not clear, something was lacking still. He did not want to die;
and he still felt that he had missed what was most important,
something of which he had dimly dreamed in the past; and he was
troubled by the same hopes for the future as he had felt in childhood,
at the academy and abroad.

"How well they sing to-day!" he thought, listening to the singing.
"How nice it is!"

IV

On Thursday he celebrated mass in the cathedral; it was the Washing
of Feet. When the service was over and the people were going home,
it was sunny, warm; the water gurgled in the gutters, and the