Daring neither to breathe nor to move he gazed for a long time at the old man, prayed with him and in the infinite sweetness of that prayer again became drowsy and fell asleep again.
He awoke with the rising sun.
There was no one on the rock. Tichon approached it and noticed in the thick heather a narrow path. He followed it. It led into a valley surrounded by rocks. Further down was a birch grove, in the middle of it a glade overgrown with tall grass. He heard the ripple of a hidden stream.
A hermit stood in the glade. It was he whom Tichon had seen in the night. He was feeding an elk doe and her young one.
Tichon could scarcely believe his eyes. He knew how timid the elks were, especially the female with their young. Had he suddenly surprised and lit upon some eternal mystery of those ancient days when man and beast dwelt together in Paradise?
Having eaten the bread the elk began to lick the old man’s hand. He blessed her with sign of the cross, kissed her shaggy head and said:—
“May the Lord protect thee, mother!”
All at once she looked round backwards in alarm, jumped to one side and rushed with her young one into the wood. Nothing could be heard but the crackling of branches. She had probably scented Tichon.
He approached the old man.