attire he approached the ikons, crossed himself three times with his
two fingers crossed, lighted the lamp, crossed himself again and,
turning to me, just grunted: 'Explain!' And thereupon, without delay,
I told him all that had happened. The old man listened to my account
and did not drop one word, simply shook his head. Then he sat down on
my bed and still said nothing. He scratched his chest, the back of his
head and so on and said nothing. 'Well,' I said, 'Fedul Ivanitch, what
do you think? Is it some devil's sorcery or what?' The old man looked
at me. 'What an idea! Devil's sorcery! A tobacco-smoker like you might
well have that at home, but not here. Only think what holiness there
is here! Sorcery, indeed!' 'And if it is not sorcery, what is it,
then?' The old man was silent again; again he scratched himself and
said at last, but in a muffled voice, for his moustache was all over
his mouth: 'You go to the town of Belyov. There is no one who can help
you but one man. And that man lives in Belyov. He is one of our
people. If he is willing to help you, you are lucky; if he is not,
nothing can be done.' 'And how am I to find this man?' I said. 'I can
direct you about that,' he answered; 'but how can it be sorcery? It is
an apparition, or rather an indication; but you cannot comprehend it,
it is beyond your understanding. Lie down to sleep now with the
blessing of our Lord Christ; I will burn incense and in the morning we
will converse. Morning, you know, brings wisdom.'
'Well, we did converse in the morning, only I was almost stifled by
that incense. And this was the counsel the old man gave me: that when
I reached Belyov I should go into the market place and ask in the
second shop on the right for one Prohoritch, and when I had found
Prohoritch, put into his hand a writing and the writing consisted of a
scrap of paper, on which stood the following words: 'In the name of
the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen. To Sergey Prohorovitch
Pervushin. Trust this man. Feduly Ivanitch.' And below, 'Send the
cabbages, for God's sake.'
'I thanked the old man and without further discussion ordered my
carriage and drove to Belyov. For I reflected, that though I suffered
no harm from my nocturnal visitor, yet it was uncanny and in fact not
quite the thing for a nobleman and an officer--what do you think?'
'And did you really go to Belyov?' murmured Finoplentov.
'Straight to Belyov. I went into the market place and asked at the
second shop on the right for Prohoritch. 'Is there such a person?' I
asked. 'Yes,' they told me. 'And where does he live?' 'By the Oka,
beyond the market gardens.' 'In whose house?' 'In his own.' I went to
the Oka, found his house, though it was really not a house but simply
a hovel. I saw a man wearing a blue patched coat and a ragged cap,
well ... he looked like a working-man, he was standing with his back
to me, digging among his cabbages. I went up to him. 'Are you so and
so?' I said. He turned round and, I tell you the truth, I have never
seen such piercing eyes in my life. Yet the whole face was shrunk up
like a little fist with a little wedge-shaped beard and sunken lips.
He was an old man. 'I am so and so,' he said. 'What are you
put the writing in his hand. He looked at me intently and said: 'Come
indoors, I can't read without spectacles.'
