conversation with him; after that a lady had come with her son. This son
was a sceptical young professor whom the mother, an ardent believer and
devoted to Father Sergius, had brought that he might talk to him. The
conversation had been very trying. The young man, evidently not wishing
to have a controversy with a monk, had agreed with him in everything
as with someone who was mentally inferior. Father Sergius saw that the
young man did not believe but yet was satisfied, tranquil, and at ease,
and the memory of that conversation now disquieted him.

'Have something to eat, Father,' said the attendant.

'All right, bring me something.'

The attendant went to a hut that had been arranged some ten paces from
the cave, and Father Sergius remained alone.

The time was long past when he had lived alone doing everything for
himself and eating only rye-bread, or rolls prepared for the Church. He
had been advised long since that he had no right to neglect his health,
and he was given wholesome, though Lenten, food. He ate sparingly,
though much more than he had done, and often he ate with much pleasure,
and not as formerly with aversion and a sense of guilt. So it was now.
He had some gruel, drank a cup of tea, and ate half a white roll.

The attendant went away, and Father Sergius remained alone under the elm
tree.

It was a wonderful May evening, when the birches, aspens, elms, wild
cherries, and oaks, had just burst into foliage.