The old man looked down at first, but the next moment he raised his head and looked straight at the Tsar.
“I believe thee to be the most pious, orthodox Tsar, Autocrat of all the Russias, the Lord’s anointed,” he declared in a firm voice.
“If so, you should do as we wish and hold your tongue.”
“Lord Tsar, your Majesty, hold my tongue, even if I would, it were impossible; I burn inwardly like a flame; my conscience urges me on, I cannot bear it. If we remained silent the stones would cry out.”
He fell at the Tsar’s feet.
“Lord Peter Alexeyevitch, little Father, listen to us miserable folk! We dare not change or alter anything, but in the same way as thy parents, forefathers and the holy patriarchs worked out their salvation, we too want to be saved, and to reach the heavenly Jerusalem. In the name of God, seek the truth; in the name of Jesus seek the truth! For the sake of thy own salvation seek the truth! Pacify the Holy Church, thy mother. Judge us without wrath and anger! Show mercy unto thy people, show mercy to the Tsarevitch!”
At first Peter listened attentively and even with curiosity, as though trying to understand.
But after a while he turned away, in weariness shrugging his shoulders:—
“Enough! Enough! It is impossible to hear all you have to say, old man. No doubt I have hanged too few of you fools. What are you aiming at? What do you want? Do you imagine I revere God’s Church and believe in Christ my Saviour less than you do? And who set you slaves to judge between Tsar and God? How dare you!”
Dokoukin rose and lifted his eyes up to the dark face in the vaulted roof of the Church. A ray of sunshine surrounded as with an aureola his blanched head.