“How do we dare, Tsar?” he exclaimed in a loud voice. “Listen, your Majesty. It is said in the Holy Scriptures, ‘What is man, that Thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that Thou visitest him? For Thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour. Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of Thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet.’
“Thus it is that God has ordained man to be lord of himself, self-ruling; ordainer and arbiter of his own actions. He is to be self-controlled! What hast thou made of him?”
Slowly, as though with an effort, Peter averted his eyes from Dokoukin. On leaving he turned to Tolstoi, who stood close at hand, saying:—
“Take him to the prison and keep him under strict watch until the inquiry.”
The old man was seized; he struggled, crying that he had still more to say. He was bound and carried off.
“O secret martyrs! fear not! neither despair!” he continued to shout, looking at Alexis. “Bear patiently yet a little while, for the Lord’s sake. He is coming, He will not be slow. Even so! Come, Lord Jesus! Amen.”
The Tsarevitch, pale and trembling, stood listening and gazing at the scene.
“That man is, as I should be!” said he to himself, now only understanding the whole of his past life. Something was changed, transformed within his soul; what till now had been a weight became wings. Well knew he that he should fall back into weakness, melancholy, despair, but he also knew that he should forget no more what he had just for the first time fully understood.
He, too, like Dokoukin, raised his eyes to the dark image in the dome. And it seemed to him, in the slanting rays of the sun, and the blue clouds of the incense, the gigantic Face was moving, no longer receding from the earth as before, but descending, coming down nearer from heaven; the Lord Himself was approaching at last.