deprived of the living on account of . . . his failing, but you
know, he is still living at Sinkino! He has nowhere to go. There
is no one to keep him. Though he is old, he must have a corner, and
food and clothing--I can't let him go begging on the roads in his
position! It would be on my conscience if anything happened! It
would be my fault! He is. . . in debt all round; but, you see, I
am to blame for not paying for him."

Father Yakov started up from his seat and, looking frantically at
the floor, strode up and down the room.

"My God, my God!" he muttered, raising his hands and dropping them
again. "Lord, save us and have mercy upon us! Why did you take such
a calling on yourself if you have so little faith and no strength?
There is no end to my despair! Save me, Queen of Heaven!"

"Calm yourself, Father," said Kunin.

"I am worn out with hunger, Pavel Mihailovitch," Father Yakov went
on. "Generously forgive me, but I am at the end of my strength
. . . . I know if I were to beg and to bow down, everyone would help,
but . . . I cannot! I am ashamed. How can I beg of the peasants?
You are on the Board here, so you know. . . . How can one beg of a
beggar? And to beg of richer people, of landowners, I cannot! I
have pride! I am ashamed!"

Father Yakov waved his hand, and nervously scratched his head with
both hands.

"I am ashamed! My God, I am ashamed! I am proud and can't bear