Through the window (which overlooked the wood) the moon (nearly full)
was shining in such a way that one side of the tall white figure of the
idiot stood out in the pale, silvery moonlight, while the other side was
lost in the dark shadow which covered the floor, walls, and ceiling. In
the courtyard the watchman was tapping at intervals upon his brass alarm
plate. For a while Grisha stood silently before the images and, with
his large hands pressed to his breast and his head bent forward, gave
occasional sighs. Then with difficulty he knelt down and began to pray.

At first he repeated some well-known prayers, and only accented a word
here and there. Next, he repeated thee same prayers, but louder and
with increased accentuation. Lastly he repeated them again and with even
greater emphasis, as well as with an evident effort to pronounce them in
the old Slavonic Church dialect. Though disconnected, his prayers were
very touching. He prayed for all his benefactors (so he called every one
who had received him hospitably), with, among them, Mamma and ourselves.
Next he prayed for himself, and besought God to forgive him his sins,
at the same time repeating, "God forgive also my enemies!" Then, moaning
with the effort, he rose from his knees--only to fall to the floor again
and repeat his phrases afresh. At last he regained his feet, despite
the weight of the chains, which rattled loudly whenever they struck the
floor.

Woloda pinched me rudely in the leg, but I took no notice of that
(except that I involuntarily touched the place with my hand), as I
observed with a feeling of childish astonishment, pity, and respect
the words and gestures of Grisha. Instead of the laughter and amusement
which I had expected on entering the store-room, I felt my heart beating
and overcome.