Father AlexyÉi's Story Page #4

"Father AlexyÉi's Story" is a poignant short story by Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev that explores themes of faith, redemption, and the complexities of human relationships. The narrative follows Father AlexyÉi, a Russian Orthodox priest, as he reflects on his life, struggles, and the moral dilemmas he faces within his spiritual duties and personal interactions. Through rich character development and evocative prose, Turgenev delves into the internal conflicts of the protagonist, highlighting the often challenging interplay between spirituality and worldly concerns. The story offers a profound commentary on the nature of compassion and the search for meaning in a turbulent world.

								

me with one hundred rubles,--"for the poor and sick of your parish," she
said. And again she repeated: "Pray!"--O Lord! As if I had not prayed
without that--prayed day and night!

Here Father Alexyéi again pulled out his handkerchief, and again wiped
away his tears, but not by stealth this time, and after resting for a
little while, he resumed his cheerless narrative.

Yákoff and I then began to descend as a snowball rolls down hill, and
both of us could see that an abyss lay at the foot of the hill; but how
were we to hold back, and what measures could we take? And it was
utterly impossible to conceal this; my entire parish was greatly
disturbed, and said: "The priest's son has gone mad; he is possessed of
devils,--and the authorities ought to be informed of all this."--And
people infallibly would have informed the authorities had not my
parishioners taken pity on me ... for which I thank them. In the
meantime winter was drawing to an end, and spring was approaching.--And
such a spring as God sent!--fair and bright, such as even the old people
could not remember: the sun shone all day long, there was no wind, and
the weather was warm! And then a happy thought occurred to me: to
persuade Yákoff to go off with me to do reverence to Mitrofány, in
Vorónezh. "If that last remedy is of no avail," I thought, "well, then,
there is but one hope left--the grave!"

So I was sitting one day on the porch just before evening, and the
sunset glow was flaming in the sky, and the larks were warbling, and the
apple-trees were in bloom, and the grass was growing green.... I was
sitting and meditating how I could communicate my intention to Yákoff.
Suddenly, lo and behold! he came out on the porch; he stood, gazed
around, sighed, and sat down on the step by my side. I was even
frightened out of joy, but I did nothing except hold my tongue. But he
sits and looks at the sunset glow, and not a word does he utter either.
But it seemed to me as though he had become softened, the furrows on his
brow had been smoothed away, his eyes had even grown bright.... A little
more, it seemed, and a tear would have burst forth! On beholding such a
change in him I--excuse me!--grew bold.

"Yákoff," I said to him, "do thou hearken to me without anger...." And
then I informed him of my intention; how we were both to go to Saint
Mitrofány on foot; and it is about one hundred and fifty versts to
Vorónezh from our parts; and how pleasant it would be for us two, in the
spring chill, having risen before dawn, to walk and walk over the green
grass, along the highway; and how, if we made proper obeisance and
prayed before the shrine of the holy man, perhaps--who knows?--the Lord
God would show mercy upon us, and he would receive healing, of which
there had already been many instances. And just imagine my happiness, my
dear sir!

"Very well," says Yákoff, only he does not turn round, but keeps on
gazing at the sky.--"I consent. Let us go."

I was fairly stupefied....

"My friend," I say, "my dear little dove, my benefactor!"... But he asks
me:

"When shall we set out?"

"Why, to-morrow, if thou wilt," I say.

So on the following day we started. We slung wallets over our shoulders,
took staves in our hands, and set forth. For seven whole days we trudged
on, and all the while the weather favoured us, and was even downright
wonderful! There was neither sultry heat nor rain; the flies did not
bite, the dust did not make us itch. And every day my Yákoff acquired a
better aspect. I must tell you that Yákoff had not been in the habit of
seeing that one in the open air, but had felt him behind him, close to
his back, or his shadow had seemed to be gliding alongside, which
troubled my son greatly. But on this occasion nothing of that sort
happened, and nothing made its appearance. We talked very little
together ... but how greatly at our ease we felt--especially I! I saw
that my poor boy was coming to life again. I cannot describe to you, my
dear sir, what my feelings were then.--Well, we reached Vorónezh at
last. We cleaned up ourselves and washed ourselves, and went to the
cathedral, to the holy man. For three whole days we hardly left the
temple. How many prayer-services we celebrated, how many candles we
placed before the holy pictures! And everything was going well,
everything was fine; the days were devout, the nights were tranquil; my
Yákoff slept like an infant. He began to talk to me of his own accord.
He would ask: "Dost thou see nothing, father dear?" and smile. "No, I
see nothing," I would answer.--What more could be demanded? My gratitude
to the saint was unbounded.

Three days passed; I said to Yákoff: "Well, now, dear son, the matter
has been set in order; there's a festival in our street. One thing
remains to be done; do thou make thy confession and receive the
communion; and then, with God's blessing, we will go our way, and after
having got duly rested, and worked a bit on the farm to increase thy
strength, thou mayest bestir thyself and find a place--and Márfa
Sávishna will certainly help us in that," I said.

"No," said Yákoff, "why should we trouble her? But I will take her a
ring from Mitrofány's hand."

Thereupon I was greatly encouraged. "See to it," I said, "that thou
takest a silver ring, not a gold one,--not a wedding-ring!"

My Yákoff flushed up and merely repeated that it was not proper to
trouble her, but immediately assented to all the rest.--We went to the
cathedral on the following day; my Yákoff made his confession, and
prayed so fervently before it! And then he went forward to take the
communion. I was standing a little to one side, and did not feel the
earth under me for joy.... It is no sweeter for the angels in heaven!
But as I look--what is the meaning of that?--My Yákoff has received the
communion, but does not go to sip the warm water and wine![25] He is
standing with his back to me.... I go to him.

"Yákoff," I say, "why art thou standing here?"

He suddenly wheels round. Will you believe it, I sprang back, so
frightened was I!--His face had been dreadful before, but now it had
become ferocious, frightful! He was as pale as death, his hair stood on
end, his eyes squinted.... I even lost my voice with terror. I tried to
speak and could not; I was perfectly benumbed.... And he fairly rushed
out of the church! I ran after him ... but he fled straight to the
tavern where we had put up, flung his wallet over his shoulder, and away
he flew!

"Whither?" I shouted to him. "Yákoff, what aileth thee? Stop, wait!"

But Yákoff never uttered a word in reply to me, but ran like a hare, and
it was utterly impossible to overtake him! He disappeared from sight. I
immediately turned back, hired a cart, and trembled all over, and all I
could say was: "O Lord!" and, "O Lord!" And I understood nothing: some
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