orushka roused himself quickly and sat up. Father Christopher
pulled down the boy's shirt, and shrinking and breathing jerkily,
as though he were being tickled himself, began rubbing Yegorushka's
chest.

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost," he
whispered, "lie with your back upwards--that's it. . . . You'll
be all right to-morrow, but don't do it again. . . . You are as hot
as fire. I suppose you were on the road in the storm."

"Yes."

"You might well fall ill! In the name of the Father, the Son, and
the Holy Ghost, . . . you might well fall ill!"

After rubbing Yegorushka, Father Christopher put on his shirt again,
covered him, made the sign of the cross over him, and walked away.
Then Yegorushka saw him saying his prayers. Probably the old man
knew a great many prayers by heart, for he stood a long time before
the ikon murmuring. After saying his prayers he made the sign of
the cross over the window, the door, Yegorushka, and Ivan Ivanitch,
lay down on the little sofa without a pillow, and covered himself
with his full coat. A clock in the corridor struck ten. Yegorushka
thought how long a time it would be before morning; feeling miserable,
he pressed his forehead against the back of the sofa and left off
trying to get rid of the oppressive misty dreams. But morning came
much sooner than he expected.

It seemed to him that he had not been lying long with his head
pressed to the back of the sofa, but when he opened his eyes slanting
rays of sunlight were already shining on the floor through the two
windows of the little hotel room. Father Christopher and Ivan
Ivanitch were not in the room. The room had been tidied; it was
bright, snug, and smelt of Father Christopher, who always smelt of
cypress and dried cornflowers (at home he used to make the holy-water
sprinklers and decorations for the ikonstands out of cornflowers,
and so he was saturated with the smell of them). Yegorushka looked
at the pillow, at the slanting sunbeams, at his boots, which had
been cleaned and were standing side by side near the sofa, and
laughed. It seemed strange to him that he was not on the bales of
wool, that everything was dry around him, and that there was no
thunder and lightning on the ceiling.

He jumped off the sofa and began dressing. He felt splendid; nothing
was left of his yesterday's illness but a slight weakness in his
legs and neck. So the vinegar and oil had done good. He remembered
the steamer, t