At the corner of the Donskoi and Shakelskoi Street they got out of the sleigh, and Mitka left the horse in a court. They continued their way on foot past old wooden fences banked with snow. Then they turned into a lane where the snow came almost up to their knees. On reaching a double gate, hung on iron hinges, they knocked. They were only admitted after they had said who they were and whence they came. They stepped into a court surrounded by buildings. Yet with the exception of the gate-keeper nobody was visible, no light, not even the bark of a dog was heard—dead silence. On leaving the courtyard they continued their way along a narrow, well-used path, between two high banks of snow, across some back-yards: whether wastes or gardens it was difficult to say. Passing through a second gate, they entered an orchard; the apple and cheery trees in their wintry dress seemed covered by white blossoms. The silence was so intense that they might have been a hundred miles away from human habitation. At the end of the garden rose a large wooden house. They went up to the door, knocked and again they were questioned. A stern-looking lad whose dress suggested a monastic novice admitted them. In the spacious hall, the walls, chests, and benches were covered with a number of overcoats, belonging to men and women: simple sheepskins, rich fur coats, ancient Russian caps, new-fashioned hoods.
When they had taken off their coats, Yemelian thrice asked Tichon:—
“Dost thou desire, my son, to be initiated into God’s mystery?”
And Tichon thrice answered:—
“I do.”
Yemelian blindfolded him and led him by the hand.
They went along endless corridors, now going down, now going up staircases.
At last they stopped. Yemelian ordered Tichon to undress, and then put on him a long linen tunic, on his feet cotton stockings, repeating the words from Revelation:—“He that overcometh shall be clothed in white raiment.”
After this they continued their way. The last staircase was so steep that Tichon was obliged to grip with both hands Mitka’s shoulders, for fear of slipping.
They were met by a smell of damp earth, which seemed to issue from a cellar. A last door opened and they entered a heated apartment, where judging by the whispering and jostling of feet a large number were assembled. Yemelian made Tichon kneel, bow thrice to the ground and repeat the words he was whispering into his ear:—