ayer. The silence of the
night pictures itself before him in the form of an endless expanse
of perfectly calm, dark water, which has overflowed everything and
congealed; there is not a ripple on it, not a shadow of a motion, and
neither is there anything within it, although it is bottomlessly deep.
It is very terrible for one to look down from the dark at this dead
water. But now the sound of the night watchman's mallet is heard, and
the boy sees that the surface of the water is beginning to tremble, and,
covering the surface with ripples, light little balls are dancing upon
it. The sound of the bell on the steeple, with one mighty swing, brings
all the water in agitation and it is slightly trembling from that sound;
a big spot of light is also trembling, spreading light upon the water,
radiating from its centre into the dark distance, there growing paler
and dying out. Again there is weary and deathlike repose in this dark
desert.

"Auntie," whispers Foma, beseechingly.

"Dearest?"

"I am coming to you."

"Come, then, come, my darling."

Going over into auntie's bed, he presses close to her, begging:

"Tell me something."

"At night?" protests auntie, sleepily.

"Please."

He does not have to ask her long. Yawning, her eyes closed, the old
woman begins slowly in a voice grown heavy with sleep:

"Well, my dear sir, in a certain kingdom, in a certain empire, there
lived a man and his wife, and they were very poor. They were so
unfortunate that they had nothing to eat. They would go around begging,
somebody would give them a crust of stale bread and that would keep them
for awhile. And it came to pass that the wife begot a child--a child was
born--it was necessary to christen it, but, being poor, they could not
entertain the godparents and the guests, so nobody came to christen the
child. They tried this and they tried that--yet nobody came. And they
began to pray to the Lord, 'Oh Lord! Oh Lord!'"

Foma knew this awful story about God's godchild. He had heard it more
than once and was already picturing to himself this godchild riding on
a white horse to his godfather and godmother; he was riding in the
darkness, over the desert, and he saw there all the unbearable miseries
to which sinners are condemned. And he heard their faint moans and
requests:

"Oh! Man! Ask the Lord yet how long are we to suffer here!"

Then it appeared to Foma that it was he who was riding at night on the
white horse, and that the