merchant said that his daughter, a girl of twenty-two, had fallen ill
two years ago, after her mother's sudden death. She had moaned (as
he expressed it) and since then had not been herself. And now he had
brought her fourteen hundred versts and she was waiting in the hostelry
till Father Sergius should give orders to bring her. She did not go out
during the day, being afraid of the light, and could only come after
sunset.

'Is she very weak?' asked Father Sergius.

'No, she has no particular weakness. She is quite plump, and is only
"nerastenic" the doctors say. If you will only let me bring her this
evening, Father Sergius, I'll fly like a spirit to fetch her. Holy
Father! Revive a parent's heart, restore his line, save his afflicted
daughter by your prayers!' And the merchant again threw himself on his
knees and bending sideways, with his head resting on his clenched fists,
remained stock still. Father Sergius again told him to get up, and
thinking how heavy his activities were and how he went through with them
patiently notwithstanding, he sighed heavily and after a few seconds of
silence, said:

'Well, bring her this evening. I will pray for her, but now I am tired.
. . .' and he closed his eyes. 'I will send for you.'

The merchant went away, stepping on tiptoe, which only made his boots
creak the louder, and Father Sergius remained alone.

His whole life was filled by Church services and by people who came
to see him, but to-day had been a particularly difficult one. In
the morning an important official had arrived and had had a long