LITMIR.BIZ

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bell followed. It avoided a meeting with the archpriest, and went to church unless to easter matins, and became on a choir and tightened the chorister a pleasant, soft octave. The severe priest of words does not waste: means, something on construction business sponadobitsya.

      He took off an apron, washed up hands, brushed the curly head and the beard streaming curls, put on a jacket from “devil’s skin” and went, the benefit the house of the priest was near. Entered from a black porch, through kitchen, and told the cook:

      – Report on a tyatenka: Elizar supposedly came; it sent for me!

      The cook left kitchen and in a minute returned:

      – In a room calls!

      Elizar was surprised: seldom which of poor people allowed a tyatenk in a room, except dear and solid people.

      He entered a small, close hall and frostily grunted. In the doorway there was a stocky figure of a tyatenka in a lilac polukaftanye, prepoyasanny the wide belt embroidered multi-colored worsted sherstyam.

      The wrinkled face of a protopopitsa looked out of the side room and disappeared.

      – Elizar?

      – Yes sir, tyatenka.

      – Well, enter!

      Elizar approached under blessing and kissed a hairy hand of a tyatenka. Then became at doors.

      Tyatenka some time went on the room which is purely tidied up with upholstered ancient furniture, with carved legs and backs. The master determined by a skilled look its advantages: still serf masters work. Under a window in a cage the yellow canary hung. Smelled of a cypress. Tyatenka did not invite him to sit down.

      The archpriest stopped among the room, severely looked at the parishioner, having thrown hands for a back and tapping with heels.

      – Long ago it was turned back to the village?

      – Recently, tyatenka.

      – You work at construction?

      – Yes sir.

      – I know that you are Jack of all trades… I remember you… Yes, yes… well that! it was turned back – it is good! I ordered to give you work on an iconostasis… you have to appreciate it?

      – He is very grateful, a tyatenka, all of us here under your hand…

      – Here only in church seldom and before saw you and now I do not see… for it I will not praise… Orthodox Christian?

      – Not the conservative!. And to go to church not always there is time! Why sent?

      Tyatenka frowned. It did not like freely keeping parishioner.

      – Here that: badly you raise children, today I found your younger son behind stealing of church property. Stole a church tree and wanted to carry away home. Of course – the child, I do not blame him, but all answer falls on you: you sent the child to steal? and at whom? at church!

      Elizar shuddered and became straight.

      Tyatenka raised the voice, eyes sparkled from under the shifted gray-haired eyebrows…

      – What does it smell of? What it is necessary for theft of church property? Once I want – and tomorrow will be in prison again! You know – here the archpriest stuck himself with a finger into a breast – I am a chief here, nobody is more! That I will want – that and I will make over you!

      With each word of the archpriest Elizar turned pale more and more. At the words “I am a chief here” in his breast the old hostility flashed: too much he bore offenses from chiefs. Remembered wanderings on the plants and factories: everywhere there were chiefs threatening with prison. And now, hardly he tries to begin life and work without chiefs, the new master over his life and death – the pop petty tyrant long ago hating it, perhaps, only for the fact that did not see at it appropriate humiliation is… Elizar trembled: he knew that the criminal charge brought to it means, knew the boundless power of the archpriest and not prison was frightened: was afraid for destiny of a family. Not for fear turned pale – with the burning hatred which accumulated in soul during all life full of unfair offenses and humiliations; something prikhlynut at it to a throat, brawny hands shuddered, ready to seize the dangerous enemy by a throat.

      The archpriest did not understand his state and danger to which was exposed: with pleasure looked at the pale, trembling victim.

      Elizar broke himself, constrained what bubbled in him, silently was tumbled down before the archpriest, kneeled, told by the silent, shivering voice:

      – Forgive, a tyatenka… did not look through for the son… did not send him and I know nothing that he made, but of oversight it is guilty!. Forgive!

      The face of the archpriest cleared up. A look humiliated, in ashes of the lying enemy, the poor, for something dear we howl the village – satisfied it. The gait with the zakinuty curly head and an independent air of the workman since old years revolted him. It was necessary to bend, crush the arrogant man: for this purpose he chose by the tool the child.

      – Get up! – the archpriest by softer voice told – on the first time I forgive! but – look! Go! Yes go to church more often! all of you such – wandering, I live you knock about the world! Moreover here that: get out from the church apartment! That also to spirit of yours was not!

      When Elizar left the popovsky house, green circles went before eyes. Only having humiliated, he could save a family from a shame and an orphanhood. The hatred which was just boiling in him cooled down, having turned into a cold and firm, insoluble lump.

      – Villain! – he whispered, having looked back to the popovsky house – I will never forget, I will never forgive, I will never go to your church!

      Elizar did not go home, walked along the long village. Slow steppe twilight was condensed. In houses sparks flickered here and there, women milked cows, from the field the sheep herd came back. In evening air of silent fall various evening sounds, bleating of sheep and a voice of hostesses were far heard.

      Two young guys slowly went along the road and, having embraced, harmoniously sang lingering, extremely sad song: its sobbing motive reminded crying on dead men. Elizar sorted words:

      You are my darling mother…

      Whether you recognize the son свово small?.

      Reached the end of the village and in thought stopped at the two-storeyed house of Neulybov. Above in a window fire shone.

      Several minutes Elizar in thought stood on a porch, with a gloomy and gloomy face, then shook curls and resolutely knocked with an iron ring.

      The door was opened by Trophîme’s son – Fedya studying at school together with Vukol, he cheerfully smiled to the father of the companion. Having learned that Trophîme Iacovlevitch of the house, Elizar rose upward. Fedka ran ahead.

      Trophîme sat one at a table, in purely tidied up room arranged with bentwood chairs. From a ceiling the trailing lamp under the green tin lamp shade shone. The old man read the huge church book in an ancient cover.

      At Elizar’s entrance raised the head, rose and gave a hand to the guest:

      – Welcome, Elizarushka! what late? Sit down, sit down also you, there is nothing to stand, no sense in standing when you can sit!

      Elizar sat down and hard took breath.

      – With a big request, Trophîme Iacovlitch! I do not know how you will accept it but only not to the it is more!.

      He kept silent, shook curls and suddenly started talking – passionately as if filled with inspiration:

      – The thought, Trophîme Iacovlitch was at me! You know my life: since the childhood was at landowners a domestic serf, and the will left – the worker became, but I will not find the

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