A silence followed; the deacon clasped his hands and said with a sigh:
“But you know I shall have to answer for him!”
“To be sure you will!”
After a brief silence his Reverence yawned and sighed at the same moment and asked:
“Who is reading the ‘Acts’?”
“Yevstrat. Yevstrat always reads them.”
The deacon got up and, looking imploringly at his Reverence, asked:
“Father Fyodor, what am I to do now?”
“Do as you please; you are his father, not I. You ought to know best.”
“I don’t know anything, Father Fyodor! Tell me what to do, for goodness’ sake! Would you believe it, I am sick at heart! I can’t sleep now, nor keep quiet, and the holiday will be no holiday to me. Tell me what to do, Father Fyodor!”