The Vigil service was being performed in the large church on the eve of
the feast of the Intercession of the Blessed Virgin, and there were many
visitors. The Abbot himself was conducting the service. Father Sergius
was standing in his usual place and praying: that is, he was in that
condition of struggle which always occupied him during the service,
especially in the large church when he was not himself conducting the
service. This conflict was occasioned by his irritation at the presence
of fine folk, especially ladies. He tried not to see them or to notice
all that went on: how a soldier conducted them, pushing the
common people aside, how the ladies pointed out the monks to one
another--especially himself and a monk noted for his good looks. He
tried as it were to keep his mind in blinkers, to see nothing but
the light of the candles on the altar-screen, the icons, and those
conducting the service. He tried to hear nothing but the prayers
that were being chanted or read, to feel nothing but self-oblivion in
consciousness of the fulfilment of duty--a feeling he always experienced
when hearing or reciting in advance the prayers he had so often heard.

So he stood, crossing and prostrating himself when necessary, and
struggled with himself, now giving way to cold condemnation and now to
a consciously evoked obliteration of thought and feeling. Then the
sacristan, Father Nicodemus--also a great stumbling-block to Sergius
who involuntarily reproached him for flattering and fawning on the
Abbot--approached him and, bowing low, requested his presence behind the
holy gates. Father Sergius straightened his mantle, put on his biretta,
and went circumspectly through the crowd.

'Lise, regarde a droite, c'est lui!' he heard a woman's voice say.

'Ou, ou? Il n'est pas tellement beau.'