Denuded of thinking-power, strength or will, he whispered:
“I will.”
The last glow was dying away on the tree tops; the golden clouds had become grey as ashes. A balmy freshness breathed in the air. The forest sheltered them with the dense shade, earth covered them with her tall grass.
And it seemed to Tichon as though the forest, grass, earth, air and sky were all burning with the last fire which should destroy the world. But he no longer feared. He believed that the Red Death was fairer than the brightness of the sun.
CHAPTER IV
The monastery was abandoned. The monks had fled like ants from their ruined hillock.
In the chapel, which stood on a mound apart, the Self-burners had assembled. Thence they could observe the approach of the soldiers.
It was an ancient building made of dry logs, so constructed as to give no opportunity for escape from the flames. Instead of windows there were narrow slits; while the doors were so narrow that it was difficult for a man to pass through them. The porch and staircase had been demolished. Strong bolts had been fastened to the doors and thick planks nailed over the windows.