“Just the other day, Stepanida Ilyinishna Bedryagin, she’s a merchant’s wife, a wealthy woman, said to me: ‘I tell you what, Prokhorovna, go to church and put your son on a list to be remembered among the dead. His soul,’ she says, ‘will get troubled, and he’ll write to you. It’s just the thing to do,’ Stepanida Ilyinishna says, ‘it’s been tested many times.’ Only I’m not so sure ... Dear father, is it right or wrong? Would it be a good thing to do?”

“Do not even think of it. It is shameful even to ask. How is it possible to commemorate a living soul as one of the dead, and his own mother at that! It is a great sin, it is like sorcery, it can be forgiven only because of your ignorance. You had better pray to the Queen of Heaven, our swift intercessor and helper, for his health, and that you be forgiven for your wrong thoughts. And I will tell you something else, Prokhorovna: either he himself, your boy, will soon come back to you, or he will surely send you a letter. I promise you that. Go, and from now on be at peace. Your boy is alive, I tell you.”

“Dear father, may God reward you, our benefactor, pray for all of us and for oursins...”

But the elder had already noticed in the crowd two burning eyes seeking his, the eyes of a wasted, consumptive-looking, though still young, peasant woman. She stared silently, her eyes pleaded for something, but she seemed afraid to approach.

“What is it, my dear?”

“Absolve my soul, dear father,” the woman said softly and unhurriedly, and she knelt and prostrated at his feet.

“I have sinned, dear father, I am afraid of my sin.”

The elder sat on the bottom step, and the woman approached him, still on her knees.

“I’m three years a widow,” she began in a half-whisper, with a sort of shudder. “My married life was hard, he was old, he beat me badly. Once he was sick in bed; I was looking at him and I thought: what if he recovers, gets up on his feet again, what then? And then the thought came to me...”

“Wait,” said the elder, and he put his ear right to her lips. The woman continued in a soft whisper, almost inaudibly. She soon finished.

“It’s the third year?” the elder asked.

“The third year. At first I didn’t think about it, and now I’ve begun to be ill, grief has caught hold of me.”

“Have you come from far away?”

“Over three hundred miles from here.” “Did you tell it at confession?”

“I did. Twice I confessed it.”

“Were you allowed to receive communion?”

“I was. I’m afraid, afraid to die.”

“Do not be afraid of anything, never be afraid, and do not grieve. Just let repentance not slacken in you, and God will forgive everything. There is not and cannot be in the whole world such a sin that the Lord will not forgive one who truly repents of it. A man even cannot commit so great a sin as would exhaust God’s boundless love. How could there be a sin that exceeds God’s love? Only take care that you repent without ceasing, and chase away fear altogether. Believe that God loves you so as you cannot conceive of it; even with your sin and in your sin he loves you. And there is more joy in heaven over one repentant sinner than over ten righteous men^[42]—that was said long ago. Go, then, and do not be afraid. Do not be upset with people, do not take offense at their wrongs. Forgive the dead man in your heart for all the harm he did you; be reconciled with him truly. If you are repentant, it means that you love. And if you love, you already belong to God ... With love everything is bought, everything is saved. If even I, a sinful man, just like you, was moved to tenderness and felt pity for you, how much more will God be. Love is such a priceless treasure that you can buy the whole world with it, and redeem not only your own but other people’s sins. Go, and do not be afraid.”

He blessed her three times, took a little icon from around his neck, and put it on her. She bowed deeply to him without speaking. He stood up and looked cheerfully at a healthy woman with a little baby in her arms.

“I’m from Vyshegorye, dear father.”

“Why, you’ve worn yourself out walking four miles with a baby! What do you want?”

“I came to have a look at you. I was here before, don’t you remember? Your memory isn’t so good if you’ve forgotten me! Our people said you were sick, and I thought, well, I’ll go and see him myself. So, now I see you, and you don’t look sick at all! God be with you, really, you’ll live another twenty years! With all the people you’ve got praying for you, how could you be sick!”

“Thank you for everything, my dear.” ‘

“By the way, I have a little favor to ask you; here’s sixty kopecks; give them, dear father, to some woman who’s poorer than I am. As I was coming here, I thought: better give them through him, he’ll know who to give them to.”

“Thank you, my dear, thank you, kind woman. I love you. I’ll be sure to do it. Is that a little girl in your arms?”

“A little girl, father. Lizaveta.” “The Lord bless you both, you and your baby Lizaveta. You’ve gladdened my heart, mother. Farewell, my dears, farewell, my dearest ones.” He blessed them all and bowed deeply to them.

Chapter 4: A Lady of Little Faith

The visiting lady landowner, looking upon the whole scene of the conversation with the people and their blessing, shed quiet tears and wiped them away with her handkerchief. She was a sentimental society lady whose inclinations were in many respects genuinely good. When the elder finally came up to her, she met him in raptures.

“I experienced so much, so much, looking on at this moving scene ... ,” she was too excited to finish. “Oh, I understand that the people love you, I myself love the people, I want to love them, and how can one not love them, our beautiful Russian people, so simple in their majesty!”

“How is your daughter’s health? Did you want to talk with me again?” “Oh, I begged insistently, I pleaded, I was ready to go down on my knees and stay kneeling even for three days under your window until you let me in. We have come to you, great healer, to express all our rapturous gratitude. You have surely healed my Liza, healed her completely. And how? By praying over her on Thursday, by laying your hands on her. We have hastened here to kiss those hands, to pour out our feelings and our reverence!”

“What do you mean—healed? Isn’t she still lying in her chair?” “But her night fevers have completely disappeared, for two days now, since Thursday,” the lady nervously hurried on. “Besides, her legs have grown stronger. This morning she woke up healthy, she slept through the night, look at her color, at her bright eyes. She used to cry all the time, and now she’s laughing, gay, joyful. Today she insisted on being helped to her feet, and she stood for a whole minute by herself, without any support. She wants to make a wager with me that in two weeks she’ll be dancing the quadrille. I summoned the local doctor, Herzenstube, and he shrugged and said: amazing, baffling. And you want us not to trouble you, not to fly here and thank you? Thank him, Lise,^[43] thank him!” Lise’s pretty, laughing little face suddenly became serious for a moment. She rose from her chair as much as she could, and, looking at the elder, clasped her hands before him, but she couldn’t help herself and suddenly burst out laughing . . .

“It’s at him, at him!” she pointed to Alyosha, childishly annoyed with herself because she could not keep from laughing. If anyone had looked at Alyosha, who was standing a step behind the elder, he would have noticed a quick blush momentarily coloring his cheeks. His eyes flashed and he looked down.

“She has a message for you, Alexei Fyodorovich ... How are you?” the mama continued, suddenly addressing Alyosha and holding out to him an exquisitely gloved hand. The elder turned and suddenly looked at Alyosha attentively. The latter approached Liza and, grinning somehow strangely and awkwardly, held out his hand. Lise put on an important face.