"Don't interfere, Father Anastasy."

The old man laughed, beamed, and evidently listened with pleasure
to the deacon as though he were glad there were other sinful persons
in this world besides himself. The deacon spoke sincerely, with an
aching heart, and tears actually came into his eyes. Father Fyodor
felt sorry for him.

"You are to blame, deacon, you are to blame," he said, but not so
sternly and heatedly as before. "If you could beget him, you ought
to know how to instruct him. You ought to have trained him in his
childhood; it's no good trying to correct a student."

A silence followed; the deacon clasped his hands and said with a
sigh:

"But you know I shall have to answer for him!"

"To be sure you will!"

After a brief silence his Reverence yawned and sighed at the same
moment and asked:

"Who is reading the 'Acts'?"

"Yevstrat. Yevstrat always reads them."

The deacon got up and, looking imploringly at his Reverence, asked:

"Father Fyodor, what am I to do now?"