“Michael Ivanovitch!” he cried. “I am heartily glad to see you. And so you have got your promotion,” he added, touching his epaulette.
“Yes, Barrinka; and two orders,” returned Michael, proudly showing the badges to Ivan. “We have just been sent here from Moscow, where we were stationed since September twelve-months.”
“You must come home with me,” said Ivan. “My wife will be delighted to see you. She will send an account of your visit to your mother; for she writes a long letter every fortnight to Pope Nikita, with messages for half Nicolofsky.”
“I shall soon be able to write to my mother myself, Barrinka,” said Michael with an air of pride as he walked beside Ivan to the Fontanka. “It only takes one hand to do that,” he explained.
“But it takes learning,” returned Ivan laughing. “I did not know you were a scholar, Michael.”
“Oh yes, Barrinka; there is a school in our regiment now, and we are learning to read and write. Barrinka, is it true that the words of the blessed Lord,” he asked, crossing himself, “will soon be all turned into Russ and put into a printed book, which any poor man like me will be able to read if only he knows his kirillitza?”[73]
“Quite true; I have myself seen the translation of the Four Gospels.”
“I have a little bit of it already. See, Barrinka.” He took from his pocket a printed copy of extracts from the New Testament. These had been selected by the excellent Quakers Allen and Grellet, printed by the Emperor’s express orders, and distributed for use in all the primary schools which he had established in the army and throughout the empire.
“It is full of the most beautiful things about the blessed Bog Sūn,” continued Michael: “how he healed the sick and gave sight to the blind; how he died for our sins, and rose again the third day; and how every one who believes in him will get a free pardon for his sake, and have part in the resurrection of the just. What a wonderful thing it is for a poor man to be able to read all this for himself, just as well as if he were a pope or a monk! One of my comrades has a book too, written by an Englishman, which the Czar himself got turned into Russ—it is called ‘No Cross, no Crown.’[74] Besides telling how the Son of God bore the cross for us, it tells how we must bear any cross he sends us for his sake; and how, if we follow him here, we shall have a crown of glory by-and-by in his kingdom,—a crown of glory, like the Czar! Only think of that, Barrinka! I can scarcely make up my mind to believe it; and I am longing to get all the words of Christ to read for myself, that I may know if it is true. But, to be sure, the Czar must know.”
“To be sure he knows! It is all true, Michael; I can show you the words myself in which it is promised, and read them with you.”