One day he was sitting by the window as usual, when two wandering pilgrims came passing by. They were both too lame and old to work, but they had made the pilgrimage to the Holy Land and now walked about the country singing psalms and living upon the food and money that kind folk gave them. They saw Ilyá at his window and called out:
“Ilyá! Ilyá of Múrom, open wide the gate for the pilgrims; let us into thy house.”
Ilyá of Múrom answered:
“Well now, good pilgrims, I cannot open the gate, for I have been sitting here these thirty years. I can use neither hands nor feet.”
Again the pilgrims called to him:
“O Ilyá, rise up upon thy nimble feet. Open wide the gates and let the pilgrims in to visit thee in thy house.” [[18]]
Ilyá stood up upon his feet, as though nothing ailed him. He opened wide the gates and let the pilgrims into the house. They came in, crossing themselves like good Russians, and bowed low when they were in the room.
“Pray give us a drink, Ilyá,” they said.
Ilyá brought them a large bowl of honey drink; it held about a pailful and a half, and he offered it to the pilgrims. They took it and drank, and then offered it to Ilyá. He drank the bowlful and felt a rush of warmth throughout his body, his hero’s heart burned within him.
“What dost thou feel, O Ilyá?” asked the pilgrims.