章节正文
once.'
'Father Sergius, Father Sergius! Sergey Dmitrich! Prince
Kasatsky!'
Beyond the partition all was silent.
'Listen! This is cruel. I would not call you if it were not
necessary. I am ill. I don't know what is the matter with me!'
she exclaimed in a tone of suffering. 'Oh! Oh!' she groaned,
falling back on the bench. And strange to say she really felt
that her strength was failing, that she was becoming faint, that
everything in her ached, and that she was shivering with fever.
'Listen! Help me! I don't know what is the matter with me. Oh!
Oh!' She unfastened her dress, exposing her breast, and lifted
her arms, bare to the elbow. 'Oh! Oh!'
All this time he stood on the other side of the partition and
prayed. Having finished all the evening prayers, he now stood
motionless, his eyes looking at the end of his nose, and mentally
repeated with all his soul: 'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have
mercy upon me!'
But he had heard everything. He had heard how the silk rustled
when she took off her dress, how she stepped with bare feet on
the floor, and had heard how she rubbed her feet with her hand.
He felt his own weakness, and that he might be lost at any
moment. That was why he prayed unceasingly. He felt rather as
the hero in the fairy-tale must have felt when he had to go on
and on without looking round. So Sergius heard and felt that
danger and destruction were there, hovering above and around him,
and that he could only save himself by not looking in that
direction for an instant. But suddenly the desire to look seized
him. At the same instant she said:
'This is inhuman. I may die. . . .'
'Yes, I will go to her, but like the Saint who laid one hand on
the adulteress and thrust his other into the brazier. But there
is no brazier here.' He looked round. The lamp! He put his
finger over the flame and frowned, preparing himself to suffer.
And for a rather long time, as it seemed to him, there was no
sensation, but suddenly--he had not yet decided whether it was
painful enough--he writhed all over, jerked his hand away, and
waved it in the air. 'No, I can't stand that!'
'For God's sake come to me! I am dying! Oh!'
'Well--shall I perish? No, not so!'
'I will come to you directly,' he said, and having opened his
door, he went without looking at her through the cell into the
porch where he used to chop wood. There he felt for the block
and for an axe which leant against the wall.
'Immediately!' he said, and taking up the axe with his right hand
he laid the forefinger of his left hand on the block, swung the
axe, and struck with it below the second joint. The finger flew
off more lightly than a stick of similar thickness, and bounding
up, turned over on the edge of the block and then fell to the
floor.
He heard it fall before he felt any pain, but before he had time
to be surprised he felt a burning pain and the warmth of flowing
blood. He hastily wrapped the stump in the skirt of his cassock,
and pressing it to his hip went back into the room, and standing
in front of the woman, lowered his eyes and asked in a low voice:
'What do you want?'
She looked at his pale face and his quivering left cheek, and
suddenly felt ashamed. She jumped up, seized her fur cloak, and
throwing it round her shoulders, wrapped herself up in it.
'I was in pain . . . I have caught cold . . . I . . . Father
Sergius . . . I . . .'
He let his eyes, shining with a quiet light of joy, rest upon
her, and said:
'Dear sister, why did you wish to ruin your immortal soul?
Temptations must come into the world, but woe to him by whom
temptation comes. Pray that God may forgive us!'
She listened and looked at him. Suddenly she heard the sound of
something dripping. She looked down and saw that blood was
flowing from his hand and down his cassock.
'What have you done to your hand?' She remembered the sound she
had heard, and seizing the little lamp ran out into the porch.
There on the floor she saw the bloody finger. She returned with
her face paler than his and was about to speak to him, but he
silently passed into the back cell and fastened the door.
'Forgive me!' she said. 'How can I atone for my sin?'
'Go away.'
'Let me tie up your hand.'
'Go away from here.'
She dressed hurriedly and silently, and when ready sat waiting in
her furs. The sledge-bells were heard outside.
'Father Sergius, forgive me!'
'Go away. God will forgive.'
'Father Sergius! I will change my life. Do not forsake me!'
'Go away.'
'Forgive me--and give me your blessing!'
'In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy
Ghost!'--she heard his voice from behind the partition. 'Go!'
She burst into sobs and left the cell. The lawyer came forward
to meet her.
'Well, I see I have lost the bet. It can't be helped. Where will
you sit?'
'It is all the same to me.'
She took a seat in the sledge, and did not utter a word all the
way home.
A year later she entered a convent as a novice, and lived a
strict life under the direction of the hermit Arseny, who wrote
letters to her at long intervals.
IV
Father Sergius lived as a recluse for another seven years.
At first he accepted much of what people brought him--tea, sugar,
white bread, milk, clothing, and fire-wood. But as time went on
he led a more and more austere life, refusing everything
superfluous, and finally he accepted nothing but rye-bread once a
week. Everything else that was brought to him he gave to the
poor who came to him. He spent his entire time in his cell, in
prayer or in conversation with callers, who became more and more
numerous as time went on. Only three times a year did he go out
to church, and when necessary he went out to fetch water and
wood.
The episode with Makovkina had occurred after five years of his
hermit life. That occurrence soon became generally known--her
nocturnal visit, the change she underwent, and her entry into a
convent. From that time Father Sergius's fame increased. More
and more visitors came to see him, other monks settled down near
his cell, and a church was erected there and also a hostelry.
His fame, as usual exaggerating his feats, spread ever more and
more widely. People began to come to him from a distance, and
began bringing invalids to him whom they declared he cured.
His first cure occurred in the eighth year of his life as a
hermit. It was the healing of a fourteen-year-old boy, whose
mother brought him to Father Sergius insisting that he should lay
his hand on the child's head. It had never occurred to Father
Sergius that he could cure the sick. He would have regarded such
a thought as a great sin of pride; but the mother who brought the
boy implored him insistently, falling at his feet and saying:
'Why do you, who heal others, refuse to help my son?' She
besought him in Christ's name. When Father Sergius assured her
that only God could heal the sick, she replied that she only
wanted him to lay his hands on the boy and pray for him. Father
Sergius refused and returned to his cell. But next day (it was
in autumn and the nights were already cold) on going out for
water he saw the same mother with her son, a pale boy of
fourteen, and was met by the same petition.
He remembered the parable of the unjust judge, and though he had
previously felt sure that he ought to refuse, he now began to
hesitate and, having hesitated, took to prayer and prayed until a
decision formed itself in his soul. This decision was, that he
ought to accede to the woman's request and that her faith might
save her son. As for himself, he would in this case be but an
insignificant instrument chosen by God.
And going out to the mother he did what she asked--laid his hand
on the boy's head and prayed.
The mother left with her son, and a month later the boy
recovered, and the fame of the holy healing power of the starets
Sergius (as they now called him) spread throughout the whole
district. After that, not a week passed without sick people
coming, riding or on foot, to Father Sergius; and having acceded
to one petition he could not refuse others, and he laid his hands
on many and prayed. Many recovered, and his fame spread more and
more.
So seven years passed in the Monastery and thirteen in his
hermit's cell. He now had the appearance of an old man: his
beard was long and grey, but his hair, though thin, was still
black and curly.
V
For some weeks Father Sergius had been living with one persistent
thought: whether he was right in accepting the position in which
he had not so much placed himself as been placed by the
Archimandrite and the Abbot. That position had begun after the
recovery of the fourteen-year-old boy. From that time, with each
month, week, and day that passed, Sergius felt his own inner life
wasting away and being replaced by external life. It was as if
he had been turned inside out.
Sergius saw that he was a means of attracting visitors and
contributions to the monastery, and that therefore the
authorities arranged matters in such a way as to make as much use
of him as possible. For instance, they rendered it impossible
for him to do any manual work. He was supplied with everything
he could want, and they only demanded of him that he should not
refuse his blessing to those who came to seek it. For his
convenience they appointed days when he would receive. They
arranged a reception-room for men, and a place was railed in so
that he should not be pushed over by the crowds of women
visitors, and so that he could conveniently bless those who came.
They told him that people needed him, and that fulfilling
Christ's law of love he could not refuse their demand to see him,
and that to avoid them would be cruel. He could not but agree
with this, but the more he gave himself up to such a life the
more he felt that what was internal became external, and that the
fount of living water within him dried up, and that what he did
now was done more and more for men and less and less for God.
Whether he admonished people, or simply blessed them, or prayed
for the sick, or advised people about their lives, or listened to
expressions of gratitude from those he had helped by precepts, or
alms, or healing (as they assured him)--he could not help being
pleased at it, and could not be indifferent to the results of his
activity and to the influence he exerted. He thought himself a
shining light, and the more he felt this the more was he
conscious of a weakening, a dying down of the divine light of
truth that shone within him.
'In how far is what I do for God and in how far is it for men?'
That was the question that insistently tormented him and to which
he was not so much unable to give himself an answer as unable to
face the answer.
In the depth of his soul he felt that the devil had substituted
an activity for men in place of his former activity for God. He
felt this because, just as it had formerly been hard for him to
be torn from his solitude so now that solitude itself was hard
for him. He was oppressed and wearied by visitors, but at the
bottom of his heart he was glad of their presence and glad of the
praise they heaped upon him.
'Father Sergius, Father Sergius! Sergey Dmitrich! Prince
Kasatsky!'
Beyond the partition all was silent.
'Listen! This is cruel. I would not call you if it were not
necessary. I am ill. I don't know what is the matter with me!'
she exclaimed in a tone of suffering. 'Oh! Oh!' she groaned,
falling back on the bench. And strange to say she really felt
that her strength was failing, that she was becoming faint, that
everything in her ached, and that she was shivering with fever.
'Listen! Help me! I don't know what is the matter with me. Oh!
Oh!' She unfastened her dress, exposing her breast, and lifted
her arms, bare to the elbow. 'Oh! Oh!'
All this time he stood on the other side of the partition and
prayed. Having finished all the evening prayers, he now stood
motionless, his eyes looking at the end of his nose, and mentally
repeated with all his soul: 'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have
mercy upon me!'
But he had heard everything. He had heard how the silk rustled
when she took off her dress, how she stepped with bare feet on
the floor, and had heard how she rubbed her feet with her hand.
He felt his own weakness, and that he might be lost at any
moment. That was why he prayed unceasingly. He felt rather as
the hero in the fairy-tale must have felt when he had to go on
and on without looking round. So Sergius heard and felt that
danger and destruction were there, hovering above and around him,
and that he could only save himself by not looking in that
direction for an instant. But suddenly the desire to look seized
him. At the same instant she said:
'This is inhuman. I may die. . . .'
'Yes, I will go to her, but like the Saint who laid one hand on
the adulteress and thrust his other into the brazier. But there
is no brazier here.' He looked round. The lamp! He put his
finger over the flame and frowned, preparing himself to suffer.
And for a rather long time, as it seemed to him, there was no
sensation, but suddenly--he had not yet decided whether it was
painful enough--he writhed all over, jerked his hand away, and
waved it in the air. 'No, I can't stand that!'
'For God's sake come to me! I am dying! Oh!'
'Well--shall I perish? No, not so!'
'I will come to you directly,' he said, and having opened his
door, he went without looking at her through the cell into the
porch where he used to chop wood. There he felt for the block
and for an axe which leant against the wall.
'Immediately!' he said, and taking up the axe with his right hand
he laid the forefinger of his left hand on the block, swung the
axe, and struck with it below the second joint. The finger flew
off more lightly than a stick of similar thickness, and bounding
up, turned over on the edge of the block and then fell to the
floor.
He heard it fall before he felt any pain, but before he had time
to be surprised he felt a burning pain and the warmth of flowing
blood. He hastily wrapped the stump in the skirt of his cassock,
and pressing it to his hip went back into the room, and standing
in front of the woman, lowered his eyes and asked in a low voice:
'What do you want?'
She looked at his pale face and his quivering left cheek, and
suddenly felt ashamed. She jumped up, seized her fur cloak, and
throwing it round her shoulders, wrapped herself up in it.
'I was in pain . . . I have caught cold . . . I . . . Father
Sergius . . . I . . .'
He let his eyes, shining with a quiet light of joy, rest upon
her, and said:
'Dear sister, why did you wish to ruin your immortal soul?
Temptations must come into the world, but woe to him by whom
temptation comes. Pray that God may forgive us!'
She listened and looked at him. Suddenly she heard the sound of
something dripping. She looked down and saw that blood was
flowing from his hand and down his cassock.
'What have you done to your hand?' She remembered the sound she
had heard, and seizing the little lamp ran out into the porch.
There on the floor she saw the bloody finger. She returned with
her face paler than his and was about to speak to him, but he
silently passed into the back cell and fastened the door.
'Forgive me!' she said. 'How can I atone for my sin?'
'Go away.'
'Let me tie up your hand.'
'Go away from here.'
She dressed hurriedly and silently, and when ready sat waiting in
her furs. The sledge-bells were heard outside.
'Father Sergius, forgive me!'
'Go away. God will forgive.'
'Father Sergius! I will change my life. Do not forsake me!'
'Go away.'
'Forgive me--and give me your blessing!'
'In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy
Ghost!'--she heard his voice from behind the partition. 'Go!'
She burst into sobs and left the cell. The lawyer came forward
to meet her.
'Well, I see I have lost the bet. It can't be helped. Where will
you sit?'
'It is all the same to me.'
She took a seat in the sledge, and did not utter a word all the
way home.
A year later she entered a convent as a novice, and lived a
strict life under the direction of the hermit Arseny, who wrote
letters to her at long intervals.
IV
Father Sergius lived as a recluse for another seven years.
At first he accepted much of what people brought him--tea, sugar,
white bread, milk, clothing, and fire-wood. But as time went on
he led a more and more austere life, refusing everything
superfluous, and finally he accepted nothing but rye-bread once a
week. Everything else that was brought to him he gave to the
poor who came to him. He spent his entire time in his cell, in
prayer or in conversation with callers, who became more and more
numerous as time went on. Only three times a year did he go out
to church, and when necessary he went out to fetch water and
wood.
The episode with Makovkina had occurred after five years of his
hermit life. That occurrence soon became generally known--her
nocturnal visit, the change she underwent, and her entry into a
convent. From that time Father Sergius's fame increased. More
and more visitors came to see him, other monks settled down near
his cell, and a church was erected there and also a hostelry.
His fame, as usual exaggerating his feats, spread ever more and
more widely. People began to come to him from a distance, and
began bringing invalids to him whom they declared he cured.
His first cure occurred in the eighth year of his life as a
hermit. It was the healing of a fourteen-year-old boy, whose
mother brought him to Father Sergius insisting that he should lay
his hand on the child's head. It had never occurred to Father
Sergius that he could cure the sick. He would have regarded such
a thought as a great sin of pride; but the mother who brought the
boy implored him insistently, falling at his feet and saying:
'Why do you, who heal others, refuse to help my son?' She
besought him in Christ's name. When Father Sergius assured her
that only God could heal the sick, she replied that she only
wanted him to lay his hands on the boy and pray for him. Father
Sergius refused and returned to his cell. But next day (it was
in autumn and the nights were already cold) on going out for
water he saw the same mother with her son, a pale boy of
fourteen, and was met by the same petition.
He remembered the parable of the unjust judge, and though he had
previously felt sure that he ought to refuse, he now began to
hesitate and, having hesitated, took to prayer and prayed until a
decision formed itself in his soul. This decision was, that he
ought to accede to the woman's request and that her faith might
save her son. As for himself, he would in this case be but an
insignificant instrument chosen by God.
And going out to the mother he did what she asked--laid his hand
on the boy's head and prayed.
The mother left with her son, and a month later the boy
recovered, and the fame of the holy healing power of the starets
Sergius (as they now called him) spread throughout the whole
district. After that, not a week passed without sick people
coming, riding or on foot, to Father Sergius; and having acceded
to one petition he could not refuse others, and he laid his hands
on many and prayed. Many recovered, and his fame spread more and
more.
So seven years passed in the Monastery and thirteen in his
hermit's cell. He now had the appearance of an old man: his
beard was long and grey, but his hair, though thin, was still
black and curly.
V
For some weeks Father Sergius had been living with one persistent
thought: whether he was right in accepting the position in which
he had not so much placed himself as been placed by the
Archimandrite and the Abbot. That position had begun after the
recovery of the fourteen-year-old boy. From that time, with each
month, week, and day that passed, Sergius felt his own inner life
wasting away and being replaced by external life. It was as if
he had been turned inside out.
Sergius saw that he was a means of attracting visitors and
contributions to the monastery, and that therefore the
authorities arranged matters in such a way as to make as much use
of him as possible. For instance, they rendered it impossible
for him to do any manual work. He was supplied with everything
he could want, and they only demanded of him that he should not
refuse his blessing to those who came to seek it. For his
convenience they appointed days when he would receive. They
arranged a reception-room for men, and a place was railed in so
that he should not be pushed over by the crowds of women
visitors, and so that he could conveniently bless those who came.
They told him that people needed him, and that fulfilling
Christ's law of love he could not refuse their demand to see him,
and that to avoid them would be cruel. He could not but agree
with this, but the more he gave himself up to such a life the
more he felt that what was internal became external, and that the
fount of living water within him dried up, and that what he did
now was done more and more for men and less and less for God.
Whether he admonished people, or simply blessed them, or prayed
for the sick, or advised people about their lives, or listened to
expressions of gratitude from those he had helped by precepts, or
alms, or healing (as they assured him)--he could not help being
pleased at it, and could not be indifferent to the results of his
activity and to the influence he exerted. He thought himself a
shining light, and the more he felt this the more was he
conscious of a weakening, a dying down of the divine light of
truth that shone within him.
'In how far is what I do for God and in how far is it for men?'
That was the question that insistently tormented him and to which
he was not so much unable to give himself an answer as unable to
face the answer.
In the depth of his soul he felt that the devil had substituted
an activity for men in place of his former activity for God. He
felt this because, just as it had formerly been hard for him to
be torn from his solitude so now that solitude itself was hard
for him. He was oppressed and wearied by visitors, but at the
bottom of his heart he was glad of their presence and glad of the
praise they heaped upon him.
- suffering [´sʌfəriŋ]
n.痛苦；灾害 (初中英语单词) - christ [kraist] n.基督 int.天啊! (初中英语单词)
- weakness [´wi:knis] n.虚弱；弱点，缺点 (初中英语单词)
- destruction [di´strʌkʃən] n.破坏，毁灭 (初中英语单词)
- instant [´instənt] a.立即的 n.紧迫；瞬间 (初中英语单词)
- thrust [θrʌst] v.&n.猛推；冲；刺；挤进 (初中英语单词)
- perish [´periʃ] v.灭亡；消灭；(使)死去 (初中英语单词)
- lightly [´laitli] ad.轻微地，稍微 (初中英语单词)
- warmth [wɔ:mθ] n.温暖；热情；激动 (初中英语单词)
- hastily [´heistili] ad.急速地；草率地 (初中英语单词)
- ashamed [ə´ʃeimd] a.惭愧；不好意思 (初中英语单词)
- immortal [i´mɔ:təl] a.不死的n.不朽的人物 (初中英语单词)
- forgive [fə´giv] vt.原谅，谅解，宽恕 (初中英语单词)
- bloody [´blʌdi] a.(流)血的；血腥的 (初中英语单词)
- silently [´sailəntli] ad.寂静地；沉默地 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- lawyer [´lɔ:jə] n.律师；法学家 (初中英语单词)
- instrument [´instrumənt] n.仪器；手段；乐器 (初中英语单词)
- therefore [´ðeəfɔ:] ad.&conj.因此；所以 (初中英语单词)
- instance [´instəns] n.例子，实例，例证 (初中英语单词)
- blessing [´blesiŋ] n.祝福 (初中英语单词)
- gratitude [´grætitju:d] n.感激，感谢 (初中英语单词)
- divine [di´vain] a.神圣的 v.预言 (初中英语单词)
- unable [ʌn´eibəl] a.不能的；无能为力的 (初中英语单词)
- formerly [´fɔ:məli] ad.从前，以前 (初中英语单词)
- partition [pɑ:´tiʃən] n.分割；划分 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- thickness [´θiknis] n.厚；浓；粗；稠密 (高中英语单词)
- sledge [sledʒ] n.雪橇；大锤 (高中英语单词)
- convent [´kɔnvənt] n.女修道院；女修道会 (高中英语单词)
- hermit [´hə:mit] n.隐士 (高中英语单词)
- occurrence [ə´kʌrəns] n.发生；(偶发)事件 (高中英语单词)
- petition [pi´tiʃən] n.请愿 vt.向...请愿 (高中英语单词)
- monastery [´mɔnəstri] n.修道院；庙宇 (高中英语单词)
- external [ik´stə:nəl] a.外部的；外面的 (高中英语单词)
- internal [in´tə:nl] a.内部的；国内的 (高中英语单词)
- indifferent [in´difrənt] a.不关心的；中立的 (高中英语单词)
- solitude [´sɔlitju:d] n.孤独；寂寞；荒凉 (高中英语单词)
- hurriedly [´hʌridli] ad.仓促地，忙乱地 (英语四级单词)
- forsake [fə´seik] vt.遗弃，抛弃，摒绝 (英语四级单词)
- austere [ɔ´stiə] a.严峻(格)的；质朴的 (英语四级单词)
- episode [´episəud] n.插曲；一段情节 (英语四级单词)
- unjust [ʌn´dʒʌst] a.不公平(正)的 (英语四级单词)
- manual [´mænjuəl] a.用手(操作)的 n.手册 (英语四级单词)
- conveniently [kən´vi:njəntli] ad.方便地；合宜地 (英语四级单词)
- blessed [´blesid] a.享福的；神圣的 (英语四级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- forefinger [´fɔ:,fiŋgə] n.食指 (英语六级单词)
- novice [´nɔvis] n.新手；初学者 (英语六级单词)
- assured [ə´ʃuəd] a.确实的 n.被保险人 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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