rees in whose shade the peasants rested when their
sins had been forgiven. Some lay curled up on the ground, fast asleep;
others sat with their legs spread comfortably apart, eating bread and
meat; and others drank thirstily from the well, or let the water run
over their tired feet.

Facing us was the church with its gold domes blindingly bright against
the blue sky. We followed the pilgrims and entered the chapel, where
everything suddenly grew hushed and dark, with a strange odor--a mixture
of thick, sweet incense and melting candle grease, and smelly,
perspiring peasants.

The pilgrims bought candles and lighted them, and knelt on the flagging
before the altar. Behind an elaborate railing the lustrous jewels and
gold of the vessels and crucifixes glowed richly in the dim light.
Priests in gorgeous vestments were going through some church ceremony.
Their deep chanting filled the church. They knelt and rose, and finally,
by a mechanical contrivance, something was raised in an inner shrine,
and a priest took off a cloth of crimson and gold, and uncovered a
wonderful gold cup encrusted with jewels. I leaned against a pillar,
watching the kneeling peasants, and over their bent backs the mystery
and richness of the altar glowing with jewels and only half disclosed by
the tiny pointed candle flames flickering in the darkness. The Lavra is
one of the two richest monasteries in Russia. Its wealth is fathomless.
It has lent emperors treasure with which to fight the infidels, and on
returning from holy wars the emperors have brought it back to the church
increased a hundred fold by royal gifts of jewels and loot.

We went out into the blinding sunlight again, and down a long flight of
cloister steps to the catacombs.

A priest was selling bottles of a white liquid.

"What is it?" Marie asked.

"Holy water," the priest replied. "It is not for your kind." But he took
the kopecks of an old peasant woman. "Rub it on your joints and it will
cure their stiffness," he said to her, with a cynical smile.

Three fat priests sat at the entrance of the catacombs, selling
different-sized candles. The very poor peasants, who came barefooted,
could only afford the very thin tapers, while the rich villagers, with
heavy, well-made boots and much embroidery on their clothes, bought
candles as thick as a man's thumb, and sometimes two or three at a time,
which they held lighted between their fingers.

A short, fat priest, his face drippi