CHAPTER VIII

A CRUEL BLOW

THE children who had been spending the day in the forest went home at sunset, wearied but very happy. They parted with one another after they had crossed the rough bridge, and Michael and Velia went on hand in hand towards Ostron. Michael felt his heart strongly attracted by Father Cyril. If all priests were like him, he thought, there would be no persecution. And why should not people think differently about religion, as they did about everything else? The Stundists accepted the teaching of the New Testament literally. The Orthodox people added symbols and ceremonies and the traditions of the Church to it. He could not see that it made the New Testament any more binding. If the Lord gave a command, His followers must obey it.

As Michael and Velia turned into the fold-yard, they heard a loud harsh voice speaking on the other side of the house. They hurried round the corner, and saw Okhrim, the Starosta, who was reading with some difficulty from a large official document. He had not entered the house; and Alexis stood listening, whilst Paraska could be seen partly concealed by the door which she held ajar.

[Illustration: THE STAROSTA WAS READING FROM A DOCUMENT.]

Michael and Velia drew near just as Okhrim, with a spiteful smile on his harsh face, read the plainly-worded order that the Starosta was to aid the parish priest in removing all children of Stundist parents, between the ages of two and ten years, and placing them in Orthodox families, where they would be brought up in the Orthodox faith. A wild frenzied shriek from Paraska rang through the quiet evening air; and Velia, who understood the slowly-uttered order, uttered a cry of terror, and flinging herself into her father's arms, clung closely to him, as if no power on earth could tear her from the shelter of his breast.

"Oh, my God!" cried Alexis. "What can I do?"

"Do?" repeated Okhrim contemptuously. "Why, become a good Christian, and go to church and pay the Church dues. Ay! And drink vodka as other Christians do. I believe you Stundists are the greatest fools living. The child is to be brought up Orthodox, and if you won't do it, somebody else must. I'll take her myself, and if fair means won't 'tice her to church, there is always this."

He cracked his whip, which he always flourished in his hand, and was not reluctant to use it on anybody he dared to tyrannise over. Alexis felt Velia tremble violently in his arms.

"O Father," he cried, "if it be possible, save us from this hour!"

"There you go," said Okhrim, with a sneer and a laugh, "as if God Almighty could hear you amid all His angels and archangels singing and chanting, to say nothing of the blessed saints. If I were in your plight, I'd pray humbly to one of the smallest saints, and get him to speak to those higher up; and maybe it might reach at last the ear of the Mother of God. Not that she'd do anything for a cursed Stundist. Besides, she'd never interfere with our archbishop and the consistory."

"Can we do nothing, father?" cried Michael.

"I must think," said Alexis, turning to him with an expression of almost hopeless anguish; "we have no power, no influence. Oh, if I had only sent Velia to Scotland with you, she would have been safe! But there are other fathers and other mothers. Oh, my God! Help us to bear it!"

For once in his life Okhrim's conscience stung him, and he turned away, slowly passing out of sight.

Alexis carried Velia into the house, and Paraska locked and barred the door, as if she could shut out the coming trouble.

It was a sleepless night for Alexis, as well as for Father Cyril. The thought crossed his mind that he would have time to carry Michael and Velia to Odessa, and get his wife's kinsman there to send them away to Scotland. But a step like this would only precipitate and intensify the storm ready to burst, not only upon himself but upon hundreds of fellow Stundists in the district. There were other parents, even in Knishi, who would have the same most heavy cross laid upon them. They were not only to be bereft of their children, but they knew those children would be brought up in tenets which they themselves renounced with such fervour that they were willing to sacrifice everything rather than profess to believe them. No, he could not save Velia in that way.

Then he thought pitifully of Tatiania, whose husband, Khariton Kondraty, had been in jail for nine months. She too would now have to give up little Clava, her youngest child, the pet and darling of the house. Poor Tatiania! Could she stand fast in her faith, so severely tried? Could any of the mothers refrain from going back to the Orthodox Church, if by doing so they could keep their little ones? Ah! This was the sharpest weapon of all in the Orthodox armoury. "Give me the children," the Church demanded, "and the mothers will follow."

Then Father Cyril was so good and kind and persuasive; so different from Father Vasili, who had been an idle, self-indulgent, and arrogant parish priest. It would make it much easier for the women to go back to the Orthodox Church. By slow degrees they would relapse into the old condition of superstitious observances, and the lamp of truth would be extinguished in Knishi, as it had been in other places.

But below every other thought there rang through his soul the cry, "Oh, Velia, my little child! Would to God we could die together, my child and I!"

The morning came, and a wretched circle assembled at breakfast. Michael and Velia had both slept, but their eyes were red, as if they had wept themselves to sleep and awoke with tears again. Paraska was heavy-eyed, and completely dumb. They were lingering together, as if they could not bear to separate, even for an hour, when Father Cyril appeared at the door.

"Ah, Okhrim has been before me!" he exclaimed. "I ought to have come last night. My poor Alexis! But the order is not to be executed before Sunday that the people may have time to make their submission, and be reconciled to the Church. Those parents who come to confession will keep their children, on condition that they bring them up as Orthodox Christians."

"We shall see who can bear the severest temptations," said Alexis, with a sad smile.

"But I will start off to Kovylsk at once if you can drive me," said Father Cyril; "and I will ask for an interview with the archbishop. Come, Alexis; I am a father too. I feel for you. I can guess the terror little Velia feels, poor lamb."

He sat down on the bench, and took the trembling little girl into his arms. The tears rolled slowly down his cheeks. He felt great shame in the errand forced upon him. This terrible order, which he was called upon to execute, seemed to him a monstrous attack upon a parent's rights—those primal rights which existed before the Church was founded. He sat in silence for some minutes, until he could command his voice. From time to time, he stroked Velia's hair and patted her cheek. And the child nestled close to him, much comforted.

"We must bestir ourselves, and do the best we can," he said, almost stammering.

"And leave the result to God," added Alexis. "But how can I quit my little daughter just now?"

"Let her go and play with my little ones," answered Father Cyril; "the Matoushka will be like a mother to her. We will put her down at the church-house; for we must tell my wife we shall be away for one or two nights."