Bitter Desert

The Far North, the wild desert... Wherever the eye turns, everywhere one sees swamps and swamps and bare earth, or masses of bare rocky mountains, the peaks of which rise to the pale skies. Nothing caresses the eyes, nothing cherishes the ear - neither nightingales nor larks, so close to the heart of the Russian person, fly here. Winter is long, summer is short, so short that the freezing ground does not have time to warm up. The sun smiles miserably from the distant sky, on which gray clouds are constantly moving, driven by the wind; The wind has a wide expanse here. The mountains are darkening, perhaps covering the azure lands, where the sun shines brightly and nature smiles, where flowers are fragrant and a light breeze, fluttering, whispers something sweet, pleasant... Azure lands.. Oh, no, they are far from this wild, cheerless desert... Everything here is gloomy, anxious, breathes cold and death. In rare places, you can see a pine forest, or a spruce tree, or a gnarled birch bending down to green moss. Bears appear in the forests, arctic foxes run waving their long fluffy tails, gray wolves flash between the trees, sparkling their eyes and baring their teeth at their prey. Reptiles swarm in the swamps, loons fly in for a short summer, a seagull rushes around with a sharp cry, as if it is looking for someone and cannot find it. It stretches in breadth and distance for hundreds of versts, ends at the White Sea in the west, at the Arctic Ocean in the north. The White Sea is harsh, cold, the Arctic Ocean is terrible. The sea is formidable, when the serpen (August) is replaced by zarnik (September) and a violent wind rises from the high mountains, as it is locally called "khviyus". It rushes, roars, howls, rushing over the desert, disperses gulls and loons to warm nests, brown bears, gray wolves and bluish arctic foxes to dens and lairs and rushes to the White Sea. Hvijus muddies the sea and it rages mercilessly, as if threatening this desert, breaking the roaring billows against huge blocks of ice walking in the darkness of the northern winter. After all, winter comes early here - with the dawn.The sun sets, which shone for almost three months day and night. The chilly growth turned yellow, curled up under the breath of the hvius. It became siverko (cold). By the end of the dawn, deep snow covers the desert, the mountains freeze, and a blizzard begins to howl. Night has fallen, and it will reign until the Omelyan the Confessor, which is celebrated soon after the Baptism of the Lord. Until then, the sun will not rise. Flashes (northern lights) alone will now illuminate this dead kingdom, shimmering with a whole sea of all kinds of colors and as if throwing countless sparks on the snow canopy of the tundra-desert with its thickies (mountain steeps), navoloks (capes) and slanka (very small shrubs). In the moonlight, they look like majestic, fairy-tale castles, miraculously as if created from multi-colored gemstones: red, blue, amber, green, yellow, shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow... In the expanse of the ocean, among these icy mountains, seals can be seen, swimming with their pups on thick ice floes, swaying on the mighty waves of the free element. A flash will flare up, illuminate the sky - seals swim out onto the cold shore and frolic. They are alone here: the hunting arrow does not watch over the pinnipeds.Hvijus seems to resign himself a little, then begins to blow again with terrible force, wakes up a blizzard, and the snow swirls over the desert and turns it into primordial chaos... Following the baby (November), jelly came (December). Varyukha crackled, Savva screamed, Nikola nailed. The bear in the den had not yet opened his eyes. It's cold!.. Spiridon came as usual – the sun would have turned, but where is it, the sun? It has also sunk with a sickle, and he will not get up from his scarlet bed until Omelyan. It came, March, with rains, with fogs, with bad weather, but only in the spring. March is out of breath, breathing heavily, intermittently, but no matter how much he breathes, everything seems to be warm... The hvius himself, as it were, shuns him: he knows the violent wind, that he is not the friend and companion of March, but the night owl, the slacker, the shoreman — these are the winds. Suhiy does not oppress on siverko, but on the intervening time (summer). Flying: Evdokea brightens the spring, Gerasim the rook, Alexei streams from the mountains... Fogs are smoking, rains are falling. The snow loosens and gradually settles. By the blossom (April), you see, the thawed patches will turn black, rooks will jump over them, crows will croak, loons, gulls, soldier-birds, petrels, knifebills and skuas will respond. Spring finally smiled at the wild desert with its gentle smile. The tundra threw off the snow cover. The hvius lay down. Lichen is spreading like white lace, and timid grass has appeared. The gnarled birch shyly covers itself with leaves, the pine forest and the spruce forest, brushing away the winter slumber and fluffy snow, are green in a particularly solemn way. And in this timid, weak manifestation of plant life lies, alas, all the beauty of the vast desert in spring. There are no villages, or at least lonely huts. Do people live here? Or is it a land forgotten by man?But, choo, an alarming cry rang out.. He woke up the desert. It is not the cry of a loon, or a gull, or any other bird; This is not a bear's or wolf's roar. Several small creatures in the same reindeer skins and reindeer hats responded to the call. They rose from the ground on which they were sitting in a circle and walked with a rolling gait in the direction of the cry that had alarmed them. The deer was dying.He was lying on the moss, which completely covered the tundra, and with eyes full of tears, he looked at the creature bending over him, dressed in the example of the Old Testament people. The branchy horns of the dying animal were thrown over its back. The deer did not move, only its hind legs with soft hooves twitched from time to time. The man kneeling before him stared intently at the deer, and his gentle gray eyes also dropped tears that ran down his swarthy cheeks and were lost in the curls of his sparse beard. A convulsion squeezed his face. It seemed that this man was forever parting with his best, faithful friend, losing everything that had hitherto pleased him and brought him happiness. One of them asked.The kneeling man did not answer the question, he did not even turn around to the people who approached the same people as himself.- Yes, the deer is dying... is dying..." voices were heard. He raised his head, but it fell helplessly. His legs began to twitch even more, tears flowed more uncontrollably from his eyes.The kneeling man leaned forward with his whole body."Ilmarinen," one of the people who came to him said to him, "why don't you collect his tears?" He shuddered and somehow indifferently responded: "Oh, yes, yes... And, taking a hollowed-out cup from his bosom, he began to collect into it the tears that flowed from the eyes of the dying animal. According to the belief of these children of the northern desert, the tears of a dying deer have miraculous power and help in moments of difficult trials that fate sends to people on their life path. Gathering his tears, Ilmarinen clutched the cup in his hands, continuing to look into the deer's eyes. At last he stretched, raised his head once more, but it fell again, shook up again, and fixed his suddenly blurred gaze on the people: there was one less deer in the herd.Ilmarinen hugged the dead animal, stroked its neck and rose from his knees with a sigh."There are no deer," he said. Ena, how much she wanders! In fact, a large herd of reindeer roamed the tundra, nibbling lichen. High granite mountains stood in a chain, which in one place broke, opening the entrance to the Pechenga Bay. For nine miles this lip stretched and, forming a knee, protruded into the mainland. In the distance, the mirror of the lake gleamed. In addition to the Pechenga Bay, the Paza Bay passed further to the west. Islands are piled up. The cape was drowned in the greenery, like a hero blocking the entrance to the Pazu River. From the bluish distance, the noise of paduns (waterfalls) is heard. Meanwhile, the little people, dressed in reindeer skins, moved away from the dead animal and soon disappeared: some in huts made of tree branches, others underground in pits with sharp roofs of peat bogs. There are no other dwellings here. These little people, wandering around the tundra with herds of reindeer, do not build huts. The hut serves as an excellent shelter in bad weather, the pit is an excellent shelter from the enemy: robbers, freemen, Finns and good Novgorod youths, who are not averse to looking into this distant, bitter desert and profiting from its simple-minded children, who do not even have anything to defend themselves with. Do you know, the kebuns (sorcerers and priests) did not beg the "northern spirit" to prevent the invasion, or is the Chud stronger, or is this spirit stronger? But if she has found it, pay her, the robber. And the shepherds give deer, animal skins, and all the available goods, as much as the Chud demands. And the good Novgorodians of Novgorod or the homeless freemen will appear — also to fear the desert ... — "Has come"! Oh, the "became" came! – the little inhabitants of the desert repeat with horror and are already directly crammed into their pits, leaving the herds to the mercy of fate. And they sit in these pits, neither alive nor dead, while "become" they rule around the herds, engaged in robbery.- Oh, terrible "became"! Because "became" - after all, these are burly young people, encased in steel. Themselves encased in impenetrable armor, they bring with them deadly weapons. Where can dwarfs fight with heroes? But who are they, dwarfs? Who is offended by all the newcomers with a rebellious soul and a violent temper? And over these pagan savages, and over this distant and harsh country, the light of the faith of Christ was shed. The Novgorod side illuminated the Far North with this light: from the city of Torzhok came the Apostle to the Lapp people. This was Mitrophan, Tryphon in monastic tonsure, the enlightener of the Lapps, the wonderworker of Pechenga.

Wild Lop

Among the Russians of the time to which our narrative belongs, that is, at the end of the fifteenth and the first half of the sixteenth century, there were amazing stories about the Far North. Historian N.M. Karamzin says directly: "They assured that there, on the shores of the ocean, in the mountains, the inextinguishable fire of purgatory was blazing; that there are people in Lukomorye who die every year on November 27, and on April 24 come back to life; that before death they take their goods to a certain place, where their neighbors can take them during the winter, leaving due payment for everything and not daring to deceive, for the dead, rising in the spring, settle accounts with them and always punish the unscrupulous; that there were other strange people, covered with animal hair, with dogs' heads, with a face on their chests, with long arms, but without legs; there are humanoid fish, but only dumb and so on."This was said about the Lapps, the very ones who had been paying tribute to the Lord of Novgorod the Great since the beginning of the eleventh century. He divided them into two and three and took from them first fur skins and fish, and later in money. Novgorod bailiffs came to the wild lopi and collected tribute. Needless to say, people in animal skins could not help but seem wild to the bailiffs, and they composed all sorts of fables about these savages, which were then embellished by all kinds of idle people. The manuscript has been preserved in the Solovetsky Monastery. It says: "These clans (i.e. the Lapps), like wild beasts, live in impassable deserts, in stone crevices, have neither a temple nor anything else necessary for human habitation, but feed only on animals: beasts, and birds, and sea fish, and their clothing is the skin of deer. By no means do they want to know or understand the true God, the only one sent from Him, Jesus Christ, but by Him whoever satisfies the belly is also a god for them. And if sometimes someone kills an animal with a stone, he honors the stone, and if he strikes what he is catching with a stick, he worships the club." When the Solovetsky monastery was erected over the raging ramparts of the White Sea, the Lapps began to come to it.- What brought you here? the monks asked them. And those who came answered:— We want to stay with you, brethren.— In the monastery of the Venerable Fathers Zosima and Sabbatius? The monks were surprised. "Why should you stay here!" You are accustomed to the tundra, to reindeer herds, to space and free will."We leave everything, we throw everything out of our hearts," answered the Lapps. "Like you, we want to devote ourselves exclusively to prayer and fasting." Before the time of the Grand Duke John III, they waited for the collectors of tribute at a certain time from year to year, and it is unlikely that any bailiff would ever have the courage to say that the Lapp had dodged the tribute or that he, the bailiff, had deceived him. This did not happen. Lop is wild, but honest. It is not without reason that the chronicle of the region says: "On the farthest shore of the ocean live the Laplanders, an extremely savage, suspicious and cowardly people that one trace of a stranger or even the sight of a ship puts them to flight. The Muscovites do not know the properties of this people. The fur trade is carried on without talking, because the Laplanders avoid the eyes of others. Having compared the goods they buy with the furs, they leave the furs in place, and take away what they bought, and such correspondence trade is carried out with extreme honesty."Starting from John III, the Lapps themselves, in the person of their elders, bring tribute, only not to the Lord of Novgorod the Great, but to Moscow, which conquered it. They are now dealing not with any bailiffs, but with the "Grand Duke and Tsar," as John liked to call himself. Burst in Moscow... Stepping into Ioann's City from the desolate, bare, gloomy tundra was tantamount to getting into paradise.It is known that with the accession of John III, the Russian state actually began and the dawn of a new life for the Russian people broke out. John had attained the full splendor of supreme power. Russia considered him the first, and foreigners called him the Great. Splendor and splendor accompanied this blacksmith on the throne, powerfully forging Russia, which grew and grew, seizing more and more new lands under its rule in the north, east, south and west. Under him, Moscow dressed up, embellished and flourished magnificently under the hands of its own and foreign masters, summoned by the will of the great sovereign.From Tver, Vyatka, Ryazan, Novgorod, Perm and from the old Russian volosts, captured by Lithuania, servicemen and all kinds of people went to settle in Moscow, carrying with them their talents, their tastes, their riches and treasures. Pre-Johannine Moscow became dilapidated. Masons came to the prince's call from Pskov, Italian and German chamber and wall masters came from Venice, Milan, Lübeck, the famous architect Aristotle Fioraventi arrived, and work began in full swing in Moscow. Churches are being built one after another. Where there were wastelands, there are now streets stretching, on the site of shacks, look, there are towers; where the chambers stood, there are palaces. The Fryazins (by which all foreign masters were meant) decorate Moscow buildings with a kind of feverish haste: Fryazhsky painting can be seen on the walls of churches, palaces and chambers. A Dalmatian goldsmith makes vessels for Tsar John. Everything that is not magnificent, not strong, does not go out of the ordinary — everything is banished from Moscow everyday life.— You see, they don't build in Moscow anymore, — say visiting people.— Well, do Muscovites do without a choir, or what?— Instead of a choir, they erect chambers...— And what difference does it make? Mansions, wards — it doesn't matter, tea...— That is what it doesn't matter. The chambers are Fryazh craftsmanship, always made of stone, and the mansions, as you know, are wooden, with towers and haylofts, and grids. In Moscow, but everything is going on again. She felt cramped in herself, well...— So?— So the old, eternal churches are being taken out of the city...— Really?— Yes. And the old monasteries have been rearranged from their places..." Is it so?—Truly. And the bones of the dead were carried out beyond Dorogomilovo..."Ah, and the bones are disturbed! Oh, Lord! New gardens have been planted - Moscow has turned green. The city took on a majestic appearance. The Lapps, wild as they were, could not help but marvel at the beauty of Moscow. They, the ignorant Pomorians, had to figure out how which church was built in Moscow and what a cross-shaped church, or box-shaped, or lancet-shaped church meant. They had never heard of any Indian, Lombard, or Moorish styles! Getting to Moscow, the lop froze in admiration before the splendor of palaces and mansions and, not hiding her delight, innocently asked the Muscovites: "And where did you get this?"God's blessing," they answered."Yes, your God is great, generous and merciful," the Lapps agreed. Accept Holy Baptism, and the Lord will send you from His mercies. He is all-good and merciful.Everything that the wild burst saw in Moscow, she did not even dream of. The life of the Muscovites seemed miraculous to them; Looking at them, the Lapps keenly felt the poverty and misery of their existence. In Moscow, they saw with their own eyes that their life, in their usual structure, was as meaningless as the existence of reindeer inseparable from them. In the end, his thoughts got the better of him. Savages gradually began to be seized by a thirst for another life, a thirst for light, a thirst for Christianity. Those who visited Moscow, returning to the tundra, told about the wonderful city and about the mercies and generosity of the Christian God. Souls stirred. From the stories alone, there was a pleasant, especially sweet warmth. Faith in his gods was shaken. In vain did the kebuns, having learned of this, threaten the northern shepherds with the vengeance of idols and evil spirits, in vain did they predict the destruction of all the flocks if the apostates did not come to their senses. The Lapps acted according to the call of their hearts – they sent their elders to the grand prince, "begging him to give them Christian teachers." At this time, Vasily III, the son of John III, was already reigning, and the elders of the Lapps, having brought the usual tribute, conveyed to him both a prayer from themselves and from the Pomeranian who had authorized them. Accepting the petition, the Grand Duke ordered the Novgorod Archbishop Macarius, a famous saint in the history of the Russian Church, to send to Lukomorye a priest of the local St. Sophia Cathedral with a deacon, who would enlighten the Pomorians with the light of the Gospel truth. The Novgorod priest and deacon labored among the Laplanders who lived at the mouth of the Niva River and the Kandalaksha Bay. But in addition to these Lapps, there were also Kola Lapps. And a few years later, they also expressed to Vladyka Macarius a desire to be baptized, and "with great zeal they received the priests. However, believing in Christ, this people, as the historian N. M. Karamzin notes, continued to deify the sun, moon, stars, lakes, springs, rivers, forests, stones, mountains, and had priests... and, going to Christian churches, he did not betray his idols. Archbishop Macarius sent there the clever monk Elijah with an instructive letter to the inhabitants, who, assuring him of their faithfulness to Christianity, said that they did not dare to touch their idols, guarded by terrible spirits." We worship them because they are inhabited by formidable spirits. As if in response, Elijah not only plucked, but also lit first one branch from the sacred forest for them, then another, again and again... The Lapps were horrified."What have you dared to do? they exclaimed. "You... "I am afraid of the punishment of the true God," answered the monk. "I don't recognize any, neither mountain spirits, nor forest spirits, nor mermaids. And your forests are mere forests created by the will of Almighty God. And so! Elijah remained safe and sound.— To whom do you pray? "We worship idols," they answered, and pointed to the rough stone figures made by the clumsy hands of the kebuns."Do not make for yourself an idol — this is what is said in the true Holy Scriptures," said the monk Elijah.Having settled on Kola, he began to preach the word of God, preaching the gospel, crushing pagan altars, throwing idols into the sea. In vain did the priests threaten him with the vengeance of the gods he crushed, in vain did they bring death upon him. Elijah did and did his work, proclaiming the word of Truth.Kola was founded by the Novgorodians. For the first time, this settlement was mentioned in 1264 in their agreement with Prince Yaroslav Yaroslavovich of Tver. Industrial Novgorodians needed Kola. Gradually enriching themselves with trade with the Nenets, Kama Bulgarians and others, the Novgorodians paid special attention to furs. This was the main source of their enrichment, since at that time furs were a luxury and the whole of Europe loved to flaunt in them. And in the north there were no beasts! After all, the north and northeast are overgrown with forests. Moving farther and farther, approaching the ocean, to the fabulous Lukomorye, the Novgorod enterprise built cities and colonies along the way, where it was convenient, and held fast to them. With the expansion of the circle of trade, as the prosperity and wealth of the Lord of Novgorod the Great grew, the Novgorodians raised their heads higher and more independently in relation to their closest neighbors. There is nothing surprising in the fact that they negotiated with the Tver prince Yaroslav Yaroslavich in this way, as evidenced by this charter: "Prince Yaroslav! We demand that you, like your ancestors and your father, confirm by kissing the cross the sacred vow to rule the New City as usual, to take only gifts from our regions, to entrust them only to Novgorod, and not to princely officials, not to elect them without the consent of the posadnik and not to replace without guilt those who were appointed by your brother Alexander, his son Dimitri and the Novgorodians. In Torzhok and Volok there will be princely and our tiuns (or judges): the first in your unit, the second in Novgorod, and in Bezhitsy neither you, nor the princess, nor the boyars, nor your nobles are to have villages, nor to buy or accept as gifts, as well as in other possessions of Novgorod: in Volok, Torzhok and others; also in Vologda, Zavolochye, Kola, Perm, Pecher, Yugra. You, prince, can go to Russa in autumn, not in summer, but send your fisherman and mead maker to Ladoga according to the letter of your father, Yaroslav. Dimitri and the Novgorodians gave the Bezhichi and Obonezh residents the right to be tried by their own court for three years; do not violate this temporary statute and do not send judges to them. Do not lead the people to your land from our regions, either by force or by will. Your princess, boyars and nobles must not take merchants or landowners as collateral for debts. We will set aside hay meadows for you and your boyars, but do not demand those taken from us by Prince Alexander (Nevsky) and in general do not imitate him in the actions of autocracy. Tiuns and princely nobles traveling around the volosts are given runs, as it has been established since ancient times, and only military messengers in the villages can demand horses from merchants. As for duties, our merchants in your land and in all the land of Suzdal are obliged to pay two veksha per boat, per cart and from a box of flax or hops. So it happened, prince, in the time of your fathers and grandfathers and ours. Kiss the holy cross in the assurance that you will fulfill these conditions, kiss it not through intermediaries, but yourself and in the presence of the Novgorod ambassadors. And then we bow to you, the master-prince."No wonder that they persuaded in one way and not another, because it was the Novgorod custom. The prince came to them, and if they received him, it was only "with all their will." In other words, they set their own conditions for the prince. If you agree to fulfill them, stay, and if not, with God..."That's our will," said the ardent, self-willed Novgorodians. "Your will is heavy," replied the prince. the Novgorodians repeated. "Go where you will; now is not your time.And the prince was leaving. There was nothing left for him to do.Once the Grand Prince of Kiev Svyatopolk II equipped an embassy in Novgorod. The ambassadors came and bluntly laid out that the Grand Duke wanted to put his prince's son with them, the Novgorodians. And the Lord of Novgorod the Great also answered the ambassadors directly: "Say to the Grand Prince: 'Prince Svyatopolk! If your son has two heads, then come him to us."In 1550 the village of Kola was called a prison, and in 1553 the first church was built in the prison.Hieromonk Elijah, having settled in Kola, began to preach to the pagan Lapps the one true God, the Creator of heaven and earth, the one Father and Savior of all people. Good seed fell on the stones, but some also sank into the fertile soil, and little by little the light of Christianity began to spread in the Kola side. The Novgorod monk sowed the sacred, sowed with zeal, sparing no effort. However, paganism reigned not only in the Kola region, along the Kola and Tuloma rivers. It widely ruled around. The banks of the Pechenga River, the Pasvik River and the coast of the Northern Ocean, where the Lapps roamed with their herds, also craved light. But from Kola to them is not a stone's throw away. The wild people lived in a space of 500 versts. Where was it possible for a monk to cope with this mighty "bitter wilderness" and illumine it with the light of Christianity? What was needed here was a mighty spirit, the chosen one of Almighty God Himself, Who would put into His Apostle extraordinary strength, patience, endurance and desire for podvig. He finished the work begun by the Novgorod ascetic Elijah, from which he received a blessing for his labors, and later monastic tonsure.When Mitrophan came to Kola, the first person he met there was a Novgorod hieromonk.—Bless me, holy father! Mitrofan turned to him. And when the monk who had blessed him asked why he had come here so young, full of strength and, perhaps, very much needed by his native city of Torzhok, Mitrophan humbly answered: "This is my place." a land uninhabited and thirsty awaits you."

The Voice of the Unseen One

Mitrophan was born in 1495 in Torzhok, Novgorod province.His father was a priest. A humble altar server, he tried to educate his son in the rules of strict piety. Mitrophan learned to read and write at an early age, and as a child he loved to visit the church, in which he felt most joyful. He was the first to come to the church at the call of the church bell and the last to leave it. Children's games and amusements did not occupy his mind. Mitrophan avoided them. He sat all day long over the Holy Scriptures, as if searching for in them what the surrounding life did not give him, a child, and then a young man. In the holy books, the meaning of life was revealed and there was a key that unlocked the gates of eternal bliss.His peers called Mitrophan to have fun, but he refused. Not for him to have fun. He was invited to games. "Why am I going there?" seemed to say his imploring gaze, which he turned to his peers, and they gradually became convinced that Mitrophan was not like them: somehow strange, somehow special. But none of them dared to reproach this unusual young man. He was not understood, but he was not condemned either. Concentration and seriousness, which distinguished Mitrophan beyond his years, led his peers to bewilderment. Why is he like this? What feelings is he full of? How does his pure soul live? It was difficult and, moreover, impossible to guess. And the young people stepped back from him. And this was all he wanted, he wanted solitude, which would help him to delve into the Holy Scriptures and soar his thoughts to God... Father liked Mitrofanov's modesty and alienation from worldly amusements. Temptation, one temptation, these amusements! Away from temptation is better. The crystal of the soul will be preserved longer, the heart will no longer remain polluted by sinful thoughts, and inner beauty will not fade. In church, during the service, the priest listened to the singing and reading of his Mitrophan, and his sonorous voice delighted his father. There were some special notes in this voice, some extraordinary penetration in the son's reading of the kathismas, the Apostle, and the hours. When the time came for singing, especially the "Cherubic Hymn", Mitrophan suddenly seemed to have wings grown, carrying him upwards, as if at that moment he saw a host of angels, among the open heavens. And the unearthly delight that seized the young man gave his young voice an inexplicable beauty! His eyes sparkled, a blush flashed on his cheeks, Mitrophan trembled all over and, trembling, poured waves of indescribably sweet sounds over the wretched temple. And who would not be captured by such singing and torn away from the earth and worldly cares? It was not easy for my father to control himself. When he pronounced exclamations or read a prayer, his voice could be heard trembling. Obviously, tears came to the priest's throat. He returned home after the service and said: "Good, heartfelt, touching today you sang, Mitrofanushka, 'Praise the Name of the Lord'! A tear struck me when I listened to you. Only his eyes were still shining, but no, no, and he would tremble all over, like a dove or like an eaglet that has been in the sky and seen and heard something there, which cannot be conveyed by a language poor in words... As Mitrophan grew, all his thoughts moved further and further away from the world around him. Life, as it proceeded in the city, was alien to him. And the people who inhabited Torzhok did not interest Mitrophan at all, as if he had been born in some other part of the world, under other heavens, among a different nature, and had come here by accident and for a short time, and did not understand anyone or anything here. Hiding from the eyes of people was his favorite pastime. And Mitrophan hid in some secluded corner of his father's house, where he read, or indulged in thought, or prayed, or went out of town, to the forest or to the field, and there again prayed, reading or meditating in the distance. He became familiar with nature, comprehending the deep meaning of wilderness life, and more and more persistently searched in the forest thickets and in the wide expanse of the field for answers to the questions that overwhelmed his entire young being. Whenever he comes here, he does not see anyone, it is as if a human foot is afraid to set foot here. There, in Torzhok, people are fussing, agitated, burning in the fire of passions and petty worries, most often because of a piece of bread, but here, as they say, the outskirts with the city are both deserted and peaceful. Birds are the only ones chirping and singing, and insects buzzing, and in winter hares run through the snowdrifts, wolves and foxes prowl. And that's all. It is good to contemplate the sky here, lit up at night with myriads of lights. Every light, every star — after all, they say, it is the eye of the angels... So how many angels are there! And they all look at the earth, and at the people, and, consequently, at him, at Mitrophan. How good! How gratifying! How do these angelic eyes warm the soul.." But here, thought Mitrophan, a man has nothing to do. To beat animals, to catch birds... What for? To shed even animal blood, can this really serve as a pleasure for a person? Meanwhile, there, in the deserts of the Lukomorye, by the Cold Ocean, man is needed, yes, yes, he is needed, but he is not there. People live there like beasts and there is no one to teach them to live differently. They do not know what they eat, they do not know whom they worship, and no one, no one, strives to Lukomorye to illumine these people with the light of Christ's faith. Oh, Lord! How terrible is their life.. Why do they not live a meaningful life, but grovel like reptiles, or wander in the dark? Did You not create them in Your own image and likeness? Hast Thou not breathed into the savage's soul? Have You not given reason to the savage also? You gave, yes. Thou hast given to the savages a living soul, and a mind, and Thy image, but they have not yet understood the path to eternal bliss, have not yet learned to pray to Thee, to ask and thank Thee, the Giver of blessings.. When they look at the sky shining with stars, do they see angels, are these stars for them the eyes of the celestials? No... And that is why their souls are cold, their eyes do not light up with the fires of joy. They see the sky and do not understand what is seen. The firmament of heaven frightens them, only frightens them. In heaven they do not see Thee, O Lord! They fall to the ground in fear at the flash of lightning, at thunderclaps. They say: then the evil spirit is angry... But are not the lightnings and thunder from where Thy Throne is?.. Lord, Lord!"... Among the waves of the White Sea, on an island called Solovki, in 1436, the construction of a cell for a monastic settlement laid the foundation for the northern monastery. Soon the monk Zosima built here a wooden church of the Transfiguration of the Lord, enclosing it with a fence. This church served as the basis for the construction of the future monastery. Soon the news of the new monastery spread throughout Russia, and pilgrims from all parts of the state began to flock to it. In 1465 the relics of the Monk Sabbatius, who was the first to come to the White Sea and settled on the Solovetsky Island, near Mount Sekirnaya, were transferred to Solovki. Seeing kalika on the porch of the church or meeting a black man in the street, Mitrophan invited them to his place and, regaling them with everything that was in the house, asked them about the new monastery, about the people inhabiting the far northern land, about the pagan nomads, in particular. In turn, the pilgrim who visited Lukomorye wanted to share his impressions, which were brighter or paler, depending on the narrator. A simple townsman could not share what he saw so smoothly, so eloquently, so generously, as a more literate monk or a passer-by, who had spent a lot of time in his lifetime among all kinds of people, who had seen a lot, who had heard enough of all sorts of stories, tales and stories, and borrowed something from the language of the eloquents. And in the warmth of the priest's house, at the table on which the viands and refreshments were smoking, the tongue was still more loose and the conversation flowed endlessly. Mitrophan listened to the or kalika, and the life of the Pomorians was depicted before him in its entirety. Everything in this life was unusual, everything was different — a different way of life, different morals.Mitrophan asked the black-haired man:"And you, father, did you see a lopi when you were with the Monk Sabbatius?" No, where could he see her! It is far from the monastery. She does not believe in Christ, so why should she come to the holy monastery? I've heard it. People said: "That wicked ravine lives, like a wild beast." They cover themselves with the skin of deer, and all are only raw-eaters.— And the Solovetsky monks do not come to them in the wilderness?— The Lord knows. Maybe they are apostles.—Father, this burst cannot always remain in darkness! Mitrophan exclaimed with a sort of bitterness. The monk threw up his hands. "The Lord desires all men to be saved, and to come to the understanding of the truth. He suffered for all, and therefore He opens the embrace of His Divine love to all. Verily, there will be a day when all the tongues will turn to Him, and there will be one flock, and one Shepherd.From the kaliks passing by, Mitrophan learned more about Pomorye and the Pomeranian people, although the kaliks also did not always and not everyone saw the wild burst, but they did not stop at the fiction with which they sprinkled the truth. Some of them happened to meet Lapps in Moscow, where passers-by were always drawn to the kalik for the reason that nowhere did they find so many benefactors as in the capital city. For the story, for the spiritual verse, the kalIka received not only a bountiful meal in the boyar's house, but also a night's lodging on a downy bed.Mitrofan was curious: Did the kalika meet with the lop and where?- Have I happened, oh, happened, - he answered, and answered as if the word "burst" was associated with the memory of the horror he had experienced.- Where did you meet them? Mitrophan inquired, and his heart was beating anxiously. "Isn't it in the Solovetsky Monastery?" I saw a burst, it should not be remembered by nightfall, and in Moscow near the Grand Duke's palace.Mitrophan alerted his ears and leaned forward."Well! Well!— Well, in, she is an animal image. Covered with fur, just like an undead. The arms are long, long, and the eyes have a green tint.- But these are people, kalika, eh, people?- They are called people, but there is little human-likeness in them.- And they are not dumb, are they?- What mute, they babble. The bailiffs, in, understand them. The bailiffs, you know, have been to those places. They are wise people. They don't just have a burst, they are with a sirin bird, and they can interpret with it.— And is it a crook, kalIkushka, that the lop has a dog's head, and the eyes are on the chest? but the kalika could not confirm the lie about the lop to Mitrophan. He did not dare to deceive the pure soul of the youth.And Mitrophan would not have believed if he had lied. He felt it. "Lop are the same people as we are, only dark, forgotten by everyone" – such a conviction formed in Mitrophan, and no one was able to dissuade him from this. He found out everything about the life of Pomorye. And the more he heard about the distant land, the more obvious it became to him that this wilderness was impassable, wild, hopeless. Mitrofan took note of everything that was told to him about the far North, both the truth and fairy tales. He weighed everything in his own way. The truth introduced him to the wild burst, the fairy tales made him think more and more about its bitter existence, sympathizing with it more and more. The desire to lead the savages to the proper path took possession of Mitrophan's whole being, and with this desire he, aflame, lived. Oh, what a great and truly worthy feat it is to lead one's neighbor out of the darkness of error and show him how to live in God! But precisely because this is a great feat, it is frightening.. How to start? What to do? Where to get the power of persuasion? Where can we get spiritual power and the gift of speech? Mitrophan stopped powerless before these questions..."The Apostle Paul, preaching Christianity, made a deep impression with his speeches, captivating the thought and feelings of his listeners. Saint John was rightly called Chrysostom. They knew how to "burn the hearts of people with words," and their sermons served to the greater triumph of the Christian Church. And what can I do? The lad pondered. "Poor in spirit and poor in word. My word will not penetrate into anyone's heart and will not evoke in anyone either a grateful response, or tears of tenderness, or joy that has not been experienced before, the joy of turning to God." And the North, the distant, desolate North, seemed to be calling him more and more insistently, and the savages, it seemed to him, moving in the darkness, stretched out their hands to the places holy to the believer, where majestic temples shine and the people pray to the true God, the Almighty, the All-Bountiful, the Long-suffering and the Most Merciful. "What to do? What should I do? How can we enter the path of preaching Christ?" thought Mitrophan. Everything that was at hand and that could be gleaned from the Holy Scriptures, Mitrophan read all this, the Gospel, the Acts of the Holy Apostles knew by heart. He read and heard about the preaching of the Apostle Andrew on the site of today's Kiev, about the labors of Equal-to-the-Apostles Vladimir; the tortures of Christians under the Roman emperors, iconoclasm, and he knew about them. On the one hand, the stock of knowledge was obvious, but on the other, the greatness of the mission was overwhelming. And Mitrophan was completely lost.He tried to talk to his father about the preaching of Christianity among the Lapps. The priest did not even suspect what this conversation was leading to, it seemed that the inquisitive mind of his son wanted to embrace everything, and nothing more. It did not even occur to him that Mitrophan was sick in his soul for some unknown people.- Is the preacher's feat difficult? Mitrophan inquired. "It's hard, my son," the priest answered, "and you need to have special training for this, father?" Without knowledge of the Holy Scriptures, how is it possible? And even more so faith. A word without faith in the mouth of a preacher is a stone, not spiritual food. The Lord Himself is behind the believer. And the more exalted, the stronger the faith, the closer God is. He helps the believer. It is known that without faith nothing truly great has been accomplished. And it will not be accomplished. Christ made simple fishermen wise and made them "fishers of men." He exalted the humble to the seventh heaven. It happened that kings also fell into the dust. The Apostle Peter – who he was, remember. His father's words sank deep into Mitrophan's soul, full of worries for the organization of the life of the Pomorians. "Christ made simple fishermen wise and made them fishers of men." Yes, yes... Whoever He wants to exalt, He will exalt... Meanwhile, the years passed, and Mitrofan turned 28 years old. He was digging into the cold distance, and an inner voice held him. Mitrophan heard this voice, he said to him: "Where are you going? Podvig is difficult. Can you cope with the trials?" and Mitrophan lowered his head. And pain, sharp pain, tormented his loving heart. Once, going out of town, for his soul was heavy, he suddenly heard a voice in the field. Someone speaks, and who is unknown. There is no one around. Meanwhile a voice cried out to him: "Go and cry out, for I have remembered you with mercy, and the betrothal of my love will not be destroyed. Go to the uninhabited land, in which there are no paths, to the thirsty land, for man has not walked in it, nor has man dwelt." And the answer was heard: "I am Jesus, Whom you seek." I am ignorant! "Do not speak against anything, for I will send you to everything, and you will go, and whatever I command you, you will say; do not be afraid, for I am with you," said the Saviour.And again everything was silent.But in Mitrophan's ears these mysteriously spoken words sounded for a long time... He trembled; a peculiar ecstasy seized his whole being, and a certain ineffable warmth suddenly blew over him. "Go and cry out... Go into a land uninhabited, in which there are no paths, into a thirsty land, for a man hath not walked in it..." God, God! Is it for me? He looks around again. No, he's alone here." The earth is waiting for me... uninhabited... thirsty... me, weak!". The words came to his mind: "Blessed is the life of the wilderness, which is screaming with divine fervor." He heard them at matins... Weeping with joy, which is called unearthly, Mitrophan knelt down and began to pray fervently. He prayed for a long time. "Lord, thank You, help me there – in a land uninhabited and thirsty! Give me strength and strength! Holy Immortal, enlighten my mind, that I may glorify Thy name to the end of my life!" Returning home, he told about everything that had happened to him. The old priest threw up his hands."Mitrofanushka, where are you going, son! You are leaving us, the old ones! Where are you going?— There, to the thirsty land.The family cried, the family cried, and the father blessed Mitrophan... "Having understood the words of the Lord, Mitrophan began to actively prepare for the fulfillment of the calling to preach the Gospel to the pagans about the Redeemer of the world, Christ. He began to attend the temple of God even more zealously, and the rest of the time he spent in the wilderness in strict abstinence. And then he left his homeland and went where the Lord showed him" (see: Hieromonk Nicodemus. "St. Tryphon, the enlightener of the Lapps"), namely to the Kola side, to the Pechenga River.He parted with his native Torzhok and the benefits of worldly life forever.

Face to face

Having received a blessing from Hieromonk Elijah, Mitrophan left Kola to the northwest, in the direction of the Norwegian border. There the pagan Lapps roamed. Mitrophan knew their language. Through the forests, through the swamps, through wild places where predatory animals prowled, he made his way, looking for the first nomadic camp.In the bag hanging over his shoulder there was stale bread and a dugout cup to scoop up water from a mountain river or a spring he met on the way. It took a long time to walk. The Lapps roamed in the northern desert in a space of hundreds of versts. Several days and nights passed before Mitrophan saw a herd of reindeer in the mountain hollow." Here it is, a wild burst," he thought, and his heart trembled. A sweet and at the same time anxious feeling took possession of Mitrophan and, not feeling the fatigue that a moment ago had made itself felt, he hurriedly walked in the direction of the crowded reindeer herd. He was already a few dozen paces from the flock when at last he was noticed by one of the shepherds lying on the ground. He giggled, or rather shouted wildly, and this cry was answered by several voices in opposite places. The deer ran in the direction from which the first shout had come, and a few moments later a man appeared from behind the branchy antlers of the deer, in animal skin covering him from head to foot. He waved his hands, as if to warn Mitrophan not to approach. Fear was visible in the shepherd's eyes."Don't be afraid, don't be afraid," Mitrofan shouted to him in Finnish, "I'm your friend.Whether the words of his native language or the meekness felt in every note of the stranger's voice, made an impression, but a restrained, unaccustomed smile appeared on the gloomy face of the Lapp, and he himself went to meet Mitrophan.It was Ilmarinen.Meeting face to face with the stranger, the shepherd looked at him intently: Mitrophan was distinguished by his tall stature, he was stooped, and his thick beard fell to his chest. From under his thick eyebrows his eyes shone with caress, and if they are really the mirror of the soul, then Mitrophan's eyes reflected a pure and clear soul. His curved nose rose sharply, as if sternly, above his cheeks, thin, without blush.Ilmarinen smiled again restrainedly."Who are you? He asked Mitrophan, and he answered: "I am a merchant from Torzhok and have come to meet you. Perhaps we will have a chance to start trading with you.Then the others came up."Here," said Ilmarinen, "is a merchant from Muscovy.Two of the shepherds smiled amiably."We were in Moscow," they said, "your Moscow is good, good."He called himself our friend," Ilmarinen went on.Oh, the Lapp will spare nothing for a friend. The reindeer herders took Mitrophan to one of the huts. This hut was made of trees. One hole on the side served as an entrance, the other in the roof served as a chimney.Here and there on the ground lay the bones of deer and the remains of fish. There was a smell of rot and deadness. It was difficult for a stranger to breathe this stench, but the Lapps seemed to be accustomed to it. They indifferently passed by, fell. Rotting fish did not cause disgust in them.Entering the chum (hut), the Lapps began to treat the guest with venison and cod. Raw food appeared in front of Mitrophan.- Does Moskov eat raw meat? He answered them:"I have never eaten, but if it pleases you, I will eat raw meat."And do you drink reindeer's blood?- No, I do not drink blood. And you should not drink it.—Your God does not command you to drink deer's blood?—Why drink the blood of an animal, when God has created rivers, lakes, and springs, the water of which completely quenches thirst!—And we drink the blood of deer. "I know that you drink deer's blood," said Mitrophan, "I know that you worship stones, mountains, forests, the sun, the moon, the stars, and worship every creature to the remnant of a swamp. I know, and I tell you, you are mistaken. There's only one God, and He's the true God. This is God, who created heaven and earth, forests, stones, mountains, the sun, the moon, the stars, all animals, birds and man. He is the one Father and Savior of all people. The July evening slowly turned into a white night, and it mysteriously descended over the desert and plunged the tundra into a kind of timid, silver radiance. With every minute the scarlet flashes were extinguished. Amber-purple rays burned out in the blue sky. From them a pinkish light spread over the horizon, and it seemed to flutter like a butterfly fluttering with its wing. Only in one place a cloud, lonely lost in the sky, stretched out like a golden kamk, covered with poppy blossom on top. Otherwise, it's a solid blue of the sky. Stars flashed here and there, shuddered, blinked. The moon floated out from behind the mountains and seemed to stand still above them. It's time to go to bed. And if it had not been for Mitrophan, the Lapps would probably have slept in their huts and pits, but now sleep fled from the northern nomads.Surrounding the newcomer, this, as he called himself, a merchant from Torzhok, the "children of the desert" listened to his stories about life in the Moscow principality and about the miracles of the saints. They listened with intense attention, were amazed at the miracles, and were amazed at the divine power that the chosen ones of God carried within themselves.Mitrophan did not immediately turn the conversation to this topic, but gradually. And the more he became convinced that his story captivated his listeners, the more penetrating and convincing his voice sounded.At these moments, Mitrophan forgot everyone and everything in the world below, except for the words: "Go and cry out, for I have remembered you, having mercy, and the betrothal of My love will not be destroyed." And they seem to sound again from the heavens, blue, cloudless skies, which hang over the tundra like an immense dome. And Mitrophan felt good, very well in those moments, and he was ready to talk about the Creator of the universe and about the saints for a long time, without end. However, for the first time, the preacher was afraid to tire the listeners with a multitude of new impressions for them and got up from the ground to leave. Suddenly, several voices exclaimed at once: "Where are you going?" And sadness was heard in these voices. I have no shelter here. I have come to you from Kola, but it is time to leave. The same voices said:- Why don't you want to stay with us?- Do you allow it?- And Mitrophan's heart trembled joyfully.Ilmarinen put his hand on his shoulder.- If you are a good man, - he said, - you can stay with us. We are afraid of the "become", and you do not threaten and did not threaten us with weapons. And you spoke like a good man. Stay with us, the tundra is big - there is plenty of room for everyone in it. If you want to eat, call a deer, kill it and eat it. Hit the choice - we don't feel sorry. If you're thirsty... You don't drink blood... then the river flows close here. Its water is clean and delicious. There are a lot of fish in that river. The Muscovites eat fish. Mitrofan remained among the Lapps.

Kebuns

When Mitrophan woke up early in the morning and came out of the hut, he saw before him three people of a very strange appearance. They were old men with stern, very ugly faces, which were bordered by sharp beards. Gray eyes with a sinister gleam looked out from under thick, low-hanging eyebrows; gray hair was knocked out in disorderly braids from under high fur caps and fell on the shoulders of old men. Like the Lapps, they were dressed in reindeer skins, but now they were almost entirely hung with bells. Their crooked legs were hidden in large reindeer boots. Around their necks they wore necklaces made of small bones and shards of animals.Ilmarinen and other shepherds looked out from behind the backs of these old men.One of the older old men turned to Mitrophan."Where are you from?"His voice sounded muffled and hostile."Didn't they tell you about me? The old man knitted his eyebrows even more angrily and said abruptly: "They told us that you are a merchant from Muscovy..." I am a merchant from Torzhok."And why have you come here?"I have come to you," Mitrophan answered the rude question gently, "not to offend you. I came to you because your elders sometimes come to the Muscovites and Novgorodians to buy salt, oatmeal, cereals. You have a lot of reindeer, so I have come to do business with you. You will sell me deer and their skins, and I will sell you what you need.—And why, if you are a merchant, did you talk to them about your God? It's not a merchant's business. If you are really a guest merchant, then you should talk about your business affairs, and you have embarrassed them... The old man's eyes flashed and looked at Mitrophan with an unkind look; The other two old men suddenly became agitated and grumbled.Mitrophan, however, was not embarrassed."I did not embarrass anyone," he said in a firm voice, looking straight into the old man's eyes. "And what I have said to the shepherds about the true God, the Creator of heaven and earth, is it sinful?" God must be spoken of to those who do not know Him. God must be reminded of those who forget Him.The old man shuddered and straightened up."Who are you?" He shouted menacingly, clenching his fists. "But who are you?" I don't know you, and neither do those who came with you." "We are kebuns," added the other two. I heard, I heard," said Mitrophan.And then he remembered all the stories with which his curiosity was satisfied by the blacks and kaliks who passed through in Torzhok. All the fables about the wild burst revived in my memory. Immediately came to mind these people, according to the stories of people who had seen a lot, people-not-people, "with dogs' heads, with a face on the chest, with long arms, but without legs." "Aren't kebuns," thought Mitrofan, "contributing to the composition of fables by their appearance? It could easily be, because they are really terrible. As if hell had spewed them out to the destruction of people... So they got angry, and foam came to the mouth." And, turning to the eldest, he said: "You called yourself, elder, a kebun – a servant of the gods. How can you serve the gods if God is one?" The screams apparently turned into curses. Three fanatics surrounded Mitrophan and were ready to tear him to pieces like animals.Ilmarinen and the other Lapps, how many of them were there, turned pale and, not knowing how or why, suddenly stood between Mitrophan and the kebuns. Mitrophanes, looking with gratitude at his intercessors, on whom the "servants of the gods" at the same time fell with all the weight of their incantations and threats, meanwhile continued: "You, kebuns, did you not create gods for yourselves and worship them? And you also force the lop to worship who knows whom, and only because you do not seek the true God.— Be silent, stranger! The elder kebun stamped his foot. "Be silent, otherwise you will not survive." "Well, I am ready to die for my Lord," answered Mitrophan. "But I would not like to die before the light of the true faith of Christ shines upon you." Do you hear?" But it would be good for you if you believed in God who is in heaven, and did not make for yourselves idols on earth. Who do you worship? Stones, animals, the forces of nature. You are deluded and walk in the dark. It is said in the Scriptures: "Thou shalt not make unto thyself an idol." Do not bow down and do not serve him. There is one God, one is our Lord Jesus Christ, and besides Him there is no god." And the god thundering over the mountains? And the god who sends lightning? Storms, the death of deer, night and day — aren't they given by different gods? And the sun is not a god? And the moon and the stars, according to you, are not deities? "Everything that we see and cannot or dare not see," Mitrophan objected to him, "everything was created by God, in Whom I believe and you do not believe. He sends thunderstorms and bright weather, He created the sun, the moon, and the stars, He rules the world, punishes and has mercy on people...— Enough! The elder kebun stopped him with an imperious movement of his hand. "Get out of here... Go away!.. Mitrofan fell silent. Again, he saw, the kebuns were seized with rage. Again their hands clenched into fists and their eyes sparkled menacingly. Ilmarinen saw him off with a sad look. There was no sign of enmity on the faces of the other Lapps either.- Where are you going? Ilmarinen asked Mitrophan and carefully put his calloused hand on his shoulder. The elder kebun grabbed Ilmarinen by the shoulder and hissed and pushed him away from Mitrophan.Ilmarinen looked at the old man with bitter resentment, but said nothing.Kebuns played a prominent role in the life of the Lapps, who greatly feared and revered them. During the sacrifices, the kebuns behaved like demoniacs: to the ringing of tambourines, they shouted loudly the words of their incantations, foam accumulated in the corners of their mouths, teeth clenched, hair stood on end, eyes protruded from their sockets, gray, overhanging eyebrows converged, the body kept grimacing, legs knocked on the ground, necklaces and bells on clothes rattled and increased the general confusion, fires were blazing, deer blood was pouring out... As soon as Mitrophan disappeared from sight, the kebuns furiously attacked the Lapps and began to frighten them with all sorts of troubles because they had sheltered a man who encroached on their beliefs and traditions and therefore destroyed their entire way of life. Menacing speeches poured from the lips of the elders, hands turned to the sky and called thunder and lightning on those who transgressed. But the blue sky sent neither thunder nor lightning, it looked impassively at the cursing and mad priests; fanatics, they blasphemed the Christian God, they predicted terrible disasters, and — wondrous, wondrous! Ilmarinen listened to the kebuns and was no longer afraid of them, as he had been the day before. Their threats were now like a faint echo of distant thunder in the eyes of the shepherd. It's not scary. Why? Ilmarinen could not answer this question directly. But it was obvious that the guest influenced the inner world of the Lapp, illuminating him with the light of evangelical love... The elemental nature of the savage at once, like wax from fire, softened from gentle speeches and the aroma of something still distant, but attainable, blew over it... He was not the only one who felt this and indifferently accepted the menacing shouts and curses of the kebuns; with him several other Lapps listened to them in the same way."Kill him if he comes again!" Several voices echoed: "We'll kill him!" Ilmarinen stepped forward:"Why kill Moskov? He is not to blame for anything before us. On the contrary, he wished us well. He told us good things, he proclaimed to us the Kingdom of God.—You must kill him, he is confusing the people! The kebuns were indignant. Nobody, no one," Ilmarinen answered, "no, we won't touch him yet." If he really embarrasses us, if we really find guilt in him, then we will kill him with an evil death.Mitrophan's appearance in the tundra was like a sudden dawn.Kebuns are a stormy night, or, as the people say, a sparrow's night. Lightning flashes as if it causes thunder, but it is somewhere so far away that not even a dull, faint rumble can be heard. And hellish darkness. The voices of the conjuring and threatening kebuns are lightning. They want thunder to burst from the sky and strike those who do not want to be blinded by their fanaticism in the future. But there is no thunder. And night, dark night, reigns all around. Night of ignorance. And suddenly, in the midst of this terrible darkness, light begins to dawn. And little by little the night melts, and the lightning flashes weaker. It is morning, bright, sunny, ruddy. It goes and disperses the night shadows. The sun rises from its purple bed, and lightning dies before its face. The edges and tops of the mountains are already golden and blushing. Already the east is glowing with scarlet flowers, and they are blurring and blurring, enveloping the firmament more and more. A new life begins. She is awakened by a beautiful morning. Come, beneficent light! Glory to you!Like the morning that had dispersed the darkness, Mitrophan appeared with a gentle brotherly sermon. And not menacingly, like the kebuns, but affectionately he spoke to the Lapps. And from this sermon they breathed something new, something hitherto unexplored, beautiful. He did not threaten anyone, did not curse anyone, and did not frighten evil spirits with punishment. And kebuns are always only frightening. They do not exhort, it is not their custom to admonish. They only frighten. Their lips had never yet uttered gentle, affectionate words. Never! They are like a dark "sparrow's night"... And this night wants to disperse the bright morning - Mitrophan.He immediately won over the children's souls of the savages, and the kebuns felt that their power, their terrible, powerful power over the Lapps could come to an end. It will be broken by the power of Christian teaching. But to lose power... Oh, it's not easy to come to terms with that at all! The Kebuns would never part with her. They arbitrarily called themselves "servants of the gods", they are their favorites. Only, they say, through them, the kebuns, the gods proclaim their will to the Lapps. They, the kebuns, are given the power to give the Lapps what they deserve. From whom does this power come? From what gods? From stones, mountains, reptiles, birds, beasts and other things. A childlike simple soul is trusting of everything. But night reigns until the east turns red and the sun wakes up. Here the east is scarlet, now the sun of Truth is already peeping through the darkness of the night. Power begins to move away from the cruel kebuns, and they cling to it with both hands and do not want to let it go, "Death to the alien! Madness.. As if you can extinguish the light with ignorance.. As if it were possible to put to death that which is stronger than death – the preaching of the Kingdom of God and the future resurrection.. But the drowning man grasps at straws. And the kebuns grasp at murder as if it were a straw that could save their spared power.Ilmarinen shrugs his shoulders.- What is death for?.. The kebuns do not have a weighty answer.Why, in fact, is Mitrophan dead? What did he do that was worthy of execution?—Why kill an innocent man? Ilmarinen repeats in bewilderment. Their faces twitch. His eyes sparkle with fire. There is foam on the lips. They are beside themselves...the "servants of the gods" are silent, although the answer could be clear and simple: they, the kebuns, live very freely and they are not able to part with this life!

The first exploits of Mitrophan

Mitrophan walked wherever his eyes looked. He had no refuge in this great wilderness, nor did he hope to meet anyone who would call him, shelter him, and feed him. But nevertheless, despair did not take possession of the soul of the ascetic. He knew it was a mortal sin. Not without sorrow he moved away from the Lapp nomadic camp, but without despondency. "Despondency is cursed by God," thought Mitrophanes, "and, having given myself over to it, shall I appeal to the man whom I have come to find in the darkness of paganism? Given over to despondency, will I be able to save his soul, will I, despondently, have enough strength to cry out to him: brother, save yourself, flee from the terrible darkness and immerse yourself in the light of Christianity! Open your eyes to the shrine, listen to the commandments of Christ.. And yet I have come here, to the Far North," Mitrophan continued to reflect, "to preach the teachings of Christ. And we must preach without wasting time. Life is short. No sooner have you done a good deed than it will be stopped. And there, on the side above the stars, is the Judge. And He will call to account, ask: What have you done for the salvation of your soul? And he will not forgive the servant, the lazy and the cunning..."He looked back several times, until the mountain giants hid the nomads and their herds from him. Again he, Mitrophan, was alone. And he remembered how he had approached the Lapps the day before, and how frightened they had been. And then they treated him so warmly, fed him, gave him water. But what is most important is that his conversation about serving the true God was not fruitless. The Lapps not only listened to him attentively, but were also imbued with the words of his sermon. And it seemed to Mitrophan that the seeds of Christianity sank into the souls of if not all of them, then some of them, and promised to give useful shoots. "Has there not been a new spark in his soul?" Did he not express his affection for me? He parted with me as with a friend... Mitrophan stopped."Where to go?" He pondered. "Should we look for new Lapp nomads or return to Kola and tell Hieromonk Elijah about the night with the Lapps and the first meeting with the kebuns?" And again in front of him there were swamps, forests, wild places where predatory animals prowled. Again, a long, difficult path. At last Mitrophan reached Kola. He came to the hut of Hieromonk Elijah and told him everything that had happened to him during this time. It turned out that Novgorod and Moscow merchants had been living in Kola for several days, having come to the northern places for fur goods. Mitrophan to them. He told me that he knew the nomadic camp, where the lop was distinguished by great hospitality, received it as a native and was not averse to establishing trade relations with the Muscovites."They do not need money," said Mitrophan, "the Lapps live in the desert, where there is nothing to use the money for. They willingly exchange deer and all kinds of animals for what they need: barley, groats or bearding."We have stocked up on this," the merchants answered. "Experienced people told us that we need a lopi." "So, then, let's go to the Pechenga River?" Mitrophan said, and again joy seized his whole being."We must go," answered the merchants. balok was taken out (a sleigh, like a trough, only with a top). Hieromonk Elijah ordered to call the Lapp, who lived with him, and told him to take Mitrophan and the three merchants wherever they indicated. The Lapp carried out the order, harnessed three reindeer to the gully, and they rode off, taking oatmeal and cereals.Mitrophan said on the way that he would not return to Kola again, but would remain among the Lapps, so that if these merchants or others who wished to come here, there should be any need for him, so that they could look for him near the Pechenga River. He told his companions where he came from and how he got to the Far North."Oh, and I know your father too," said one of the Muscovites.Mitrophan startled:"And really?"How can you not know," the merchant went on, "I suppose there are not many priests in Torzhok. On reindeer, not like on foot. The journey seemed short to both Mitrophan and his companions. The balok finally stopped in view of the nomadic camp already familiar to us. The Lapps have come out, staring: who, they say, has arrived. Mitrofan separated from the merchants and called out to Ilmarinen.And everything changed suddenly.The Lapps responded to the call, Ilmarinen and two others went to meet the arrivals. Friendly smiles lit up their faces. "Your friends! Mitrophan responded.They met and greeted each other like brothers who had seen each other again after parting.Hospitality immediately made itself felt.Mitrophan told the Lapps why they had come to them and what they had brought with them. There were no kebuns in the nomadic camp, so the conversation went on peacefully and ended. The merchants stayed with the Lapps for two days and left, but Mitrophan stayed. Together with Ilmarinen they began to talk about what constituted the meaning of Mitrophan's life and the essence of his feat. Ilmarinen confessed to his new friend that his appearance had turned his whole spiritual world upside down, that after the first meeting with Mitrophan he felt as if he had entered a warm tupa (hut) from the cold. A shiver runs through my body, but it is already a pleasant shiver. The stone burns — and the trembling stops little by little, just as the snow melts under the breath of the hot spring sun... Mitrophan had nothing to fear for his preaching face to face with Ilmarinen. And he began to expound the teaching of Christ. Like a crystal stream irresistibly rushing down the mountain, his inspired speech poured out and did not charm, no, but captivated the northern savage: Ilmarinen greedily caught the words of the preacher, and his heart melted and beat with some special joy, "It is not easy to lead a mind, dull from the immobility of habits, hardened by the soot of superstitions and passions, to lead to the paths of light and truth," says St. Philaret of Moscow. It is even more difficult to make the heart break the connection with habits, delusions, acquired attachments, old attachments."But, obviously, Ilmarinen's mind was not dull and coarse from the soot of superstitions and passions. Over the years, attachments have been gained, it would seem that "addictions" should have become old in the lappary, but the preacher's ardent, sincere, intelligible word only sounded - and already hit the mark, stirring the innermost strings of the heart. Mitrophan taught how to live, how to preserve good morals and what path to eternal bliss. Ilmarinen listened, trembled, and tears trembled in his eyes - pure, transparent tears, like morning dew. Other Lapps came. Mitrophan continued to speak about God, about the crucifixion and Resurrection of Christ. The next day too. And so the whole story of the salvation of the human race was revealed to the savages. Love, love everywhere and in everything. All teaching is built on the highest, holy love and meekness. Oh, how different it is from the legends with which they are nourished, the Lapps, the kebuns! These legends are bloody. In them there is revenge, revenge, revenge... Revenge and the wrath of the gods are at every step, no meekness, no forgiveness, no love... Mitrophan stopped."You spoke, friend, and I imagined something good, gratifying," Ilmarinen said excitedly.Mitrofan took him by the hands."My brother, tell me, what exactly did you imagine? "I don't know what," Ilmarinen answered, "but it was as if a heavy, heavy stone crushed my soul, and now it fell away and it became easier to breathe." "Believe in the true God, my brother," said Mitrophan, "and then you will breathe a deep breath. Now your soul is entangled in superstitions and pagan errors. When you become a Christian, you will immediately trample them down like a stinking reptile, and your eyes will reveal what you are unable to see while you are in paganism. When you worship idols, however, you sense the true God. As if through the stench of idolatry, you felt the fragrance of Christianity. Oh, my brother! Your idols are worthless, for they are insensible. And the kebuns deceive you when they threaten you with the punishment of these deified stones, mountains, reptiles, birds and luminaries. Your gods are powerless to bring good or evil. Turn away from them and receive, hear, receive the one God, our Lord Jesus Christ!" Only at Mitrophan's last words did he pick it up, and Mitrophan saw how the Lapp's cheeks were burning and his eyes were shining. Ilmarinen! My friend! My brother! Mitrophan cried, but he was silent, as if he had not heard him. So he turned an inquisitive gaze on Mitrophan and looked at him for a long time, then he cast the same look at the Lapps and lowered his head."Ilmarinen, are you silent? Mitrofan asked anxiously.Ilmarinen sighed deeply, but again said nothing. Apparently, there was a struggle going on in it. Darkness fought with light... Opposite inner voices argued with each other, and he listened to them. It seemed to Ilmarinen that a fire had suddenly flared up in his soul and wanted to cleanse it of the mud that Mitrofan had recently mentioned. "Well, will it hurt or not? thought the Lapp. "Will there be any purification if it is purification?" Mitrofan began: "Ilmarinen... But the latter fixed an imploring glance on him and said: "No, don't say, don't say anything! Quite. And quickly getting up from the ground, he walked away from the crowd. "I'll be back, I'll be back," Ilmarinen replied without turning around and went away to the mountains that were darkening a mile and a half or two miles away. One reproachful voice sounded."Moskov, moskov.. Mitrophan said: "I didn't say anything bad to him. I showed him the path of life. What I said to Ilmarinen, I told you the same thing. You've heard. The old Lapp answered sullenly:"Not everyone listened to you..."Did you not listen?"No."Listen, I'll start again."Don't!" Several people echoed the old man:"Don't, don't."Go away from us," said the old man sternly."Why do you persecute me? "We don't want to know you." You have pretended to be good, but you are like Noida the sorcerer, our enemy. You ruined Ilmarinen. He was a good shepherd. Yes, you look like a sorcerer. Go away from us, therefore, or we will kill you. Mitrophan, not wanting to irritate the Lapps, departed. He went in the same direction where Ilmarinen went. Anxiety sank into his soul. Mitrofan thought about what had suddenly happened to Ilmarinen and how to explain his silent departure. Is he going to die? But why? What thoughts suddenly took possession of the shepherd? What solution will they lead him to? Mitrofan looked for Ilmarinen with his eyes and did not find him. He called out to him, but he did not respond. Where is he? Thinking in this way, Mitrophan reached the river. It was Pechenga. It ran, forming bays and islets along its path, on which lived a multitude of birds - sea parrots, the size of a pigeon, with a fluffy white belly, black backs and wings and red legs... The forests along the shores stretched like green seas, interspersed with glades, and climbed the mountains, the tops of which were sometimes more or less sharp, resembling monastic skufia. Mitrophan crossed the river and, stepping on the thick grass speckled with flowers, went to the highest of the mountains. When he reached it, he saw a cave. She turned black in grief like a maw. "Isn't it here that Ilmarinen has taken refuge?" flashed through Mitrofan's mind. He entered the cave. Emptily. Not a soul. Mitrofan sat down on a stone and looked around. The cave was small. On the ground lay boughs, burnt and simply dry; Apparently, Lapps sometimes came here. "What silence is all around!" thought Mitrophan. A desert, a vast desert and a pale blue sky. And this silence and the desert reminded Mitrofan of the surroundings of Torzhok.His heart trembled. As if suddenly a warm breeze blew from his distant father's home. The old father is definitely standing in front of Mitrophan and crying, seeing him off into the unknown distance. And the whole of Torzhok seems to open up with squares, a bazaar, temples. Life flows, albeit vain, but still life. In churches, the reading of the Holy Scriptures is heard. The singers are singing. The stern faces of the saints look at the worshippers. And here.. The desert is bare, wild... You leave the church, the blind are sitting at the porch and singing harmoniously. Their singing tears at the heart – this is true, but how much great meaning, how much beauty is in the spiritual poems that they sing! Or a passer-by kalika comes across a meeting. Ask him and he will tell you everything! After all, what kind of people Kalika has not seen, where he has not been... There, in Torzhok, there is someone to take your soul away from, there is someone to get your wits from, while here... "I am alone here," he continued to reflect, "alone. And was I really needed here? And as he said this, he shuddered. Of little faith! — he reproached himself, — you fall into despair, into despondency.— And Mitrophan fell to his knees.— Lord, forgive me and strengthen me, so that I may do Your will. Thou hast desired, O Lord, to send me into a land uninhabited. Refresh me. God. Help me. Turn not Thy face away from these people in the wilderness. May they know Thee, the only true God.He began to pray. The hours passed, and Mitrophan kept praying. It was daytime. It went out. Evening was already turning into night. The moon rose over the desert. Night shadows spread over the ledges of the mountains and crawled across the tundra like some huge monsters. Mitrophan continued to pray, not feeling tired. And as he immersed himself in prayer, again, as he used to be, renounced the world, he did not hear someone silently approaching him and placing his hand on his shoulder. Mitrofan came to his senses. He quickly rose to his feet and turned around. The Lapp's face was shining."Ilmarinen?! Ilmarinen hurriedly, as if guilty, knelt down and said in a voice broken with emotion: "Mitrofan... I... I want to pray... with you... And, clasping his knees, the Lapp began to kiss Mitrophan's feet. Mitrophan picked him up and, embracing him, kissed him. I wanted to say – it cannot, the tongue does not obey. And Ilmarinen, burying his face in it, was sobbing. From what? When the excitement subsided a little, Ilmarinen spoke: "Mitrofan, I listened to you just now. You talked about your faith. And I succumbed to the power of your convictions. Then a fire flared up in my soul and burned up all the idols that I had worshipped until then. Our gods are formidable and unmerciful. Your God is abundantly merciful.— But, Ilmarinen, our Lord Jesus Christ will also demand from us for everything and will reward everyone according to their deeds.— Yes, so, Mitrophan, but your God, you told us, is a just Judge. Consequently, He will reward good for good, what do we see from His own gods? Therefore, teach me to pray to the true God and once again teach me how to live in order to please God.—My brother.. "Yes, from now on I am your brother," Ilmarinen answered, "and as long as I live, I am your friend and protector." I will bear every insult, every insult for you. If I need to die, I will die. From this day on, Mitrophan, we will divide both sorrows and joys in half.They spent the whole night in conversation in the cave, and in the morning they went to the nomadic camp. There was no limit to the joy of the Lapps when they saw their kinsman. And Mitrofan was greeted warmly. Even the old man who had chased Mitrophan the day before greeted him cordially.The Lapps thought that Mitrophan had saved Ilmarinen from death and brought him to them."You have found him, Muscovites," said the old man."Yes, I have found him," Mitrophan replied mysteriously and took Ilmarinen by the hand.But the joy of the Lapps was replaced by amazement as soon as the solemn, radiant Ilmarinen announced that from now on he would not worship idols, because he believed in the true God, to Whom the Muscovites and Novgorodians pray. A cry arose. Old and young - everyone was shouting at the top of their lungs. Finally, the stern old man approached Ilmarinen and said either reproachfully or regretfully:"What are you doing?"I have already done it," Ilmarinen answered.Meanwhile, several people approached Mitrophan, threatening him with sticks."Don't touch him! Ilmarinen shouted at them. "If you touch it, I'll leave you forever." Listen: what I did, I did it of my own free will. My father and grandfather worshipped saida (sacred stones) and believed in the mysterious power of kebuns. And I worshiped and believed too. But Mitrophan convinced me that I had wandered in the dark, opened my eyes and showed me who the true God was, and explained how to pray to Him and live according to His commandments. I, like a birch tree under a khviyus, bowed with my beliefs before the convinced word of Mitrophan. And I believed in Christ. That's all... If you don't want to know me any more, say it now, and I'll go far away from you. Well?.. Everything fell silent. Everyone was silent, looking at each other. They did not know what to say to Ilmarinen. The bewildered glances of the Lapps met, but their lips were numb. At last one of the Lapps, a young shepherd, interrupted him, saying: "We have all loved you, Ilmarinen, and have always considered you clever. We listened to your advice and believed in your truthfulness. Now you have recoiled from the faith of your fathers and want to believe in the God of the Muscovites. It is not for me to judge you, Ilmarinen, for what you have done. One thing I will say: if you have done wrong, our gods will punish you. Hear? To leave us... Why should you leave? We are not kebuns. The Kebuns can talk to you about your soul, and we will continue to herd the reindeer together. Mitrofan answered for Ilmarinen:"God not only forbids to offend anyone, but even commands to forgive offenders." Four shepherds suddenly separated from the group and stood around Mitrofan and Ilmarinen. The old man flashed his eyes at them and whispered something. The priests approached.The presence of Mitrophan aroused their indignation. The Muscovites are here again. How, even threats did not affect him? He is not even afraid of death. And the head kebun asked haughtily:"What, have you come to buy again?" Before Mitrophan had time to answer, he heard the mocking voice of the old Lapper:"Moskov bought a lot: he bought Ilmarinen.The old kebun recoiled:"How is Ilmarinen?" "Ilmarinen has converted to his faith and will henceforth pray to God, to Whom the Muscovites pray," said the old Lapp in the same mocking way. Two other kebuns, waving knotty sticks, rushed at Mitrophan. Ilmarinen turned pale as death, took a step to protect him, but at that moment several strong hands grabbed him from behind, and the Lapp fell. The kebuns were beating Mitrophan with curses.. Brother!.. Ilmarinen called to the Lapps. "Stand up for Mitrophan!" Not a cry or a groan was uttered by the soldier of Christ. He meekly, obediently endured the beatings.- Let's kill him! "Let's kill him!" shouted the fanatics of the kebuns. "Why?" cried the old Lapp. For what? There is no fault on him! He jumped to his feet and pushed the kebuns away from Mitrophan with incredible force. "Death to both of them!" cried the elder kebun. The Lapps repeated, but not all of them. The four who had just separated from the group stood between the beaters and Mitrofan and Ilmarinen."They're dead, and so are we!" they shouted. "Kill us too.. The kebuns seemed to be petrified. They don't believe their ears. Is that what the Lapps say?! And the rest of the Lapps are amazed. What kind of charms does Mitrophan possess that wins hearts? To know that the God of the Russian land is indeed great and mighty. What happened to the shepherds? What did their hearts suddenly feel? And while some were as if stunned, and others, pondering, were amazed, Mitrofan and Ilmarinen went to the mountains.

Evil deed

The Kebuns could not forgive Mitrophan for Ilmarinen's conversion to Christianity. The behavior of the other four Lapps, who were clearly sympathetic to Mitrophan and Ilmarinen, threw the pagan priests into confusion. "If it goes on like this," they thought, "we will be left alone or with decrepit old people living out their last days, and then what will we do?!" The Kebuns gathered for a meeting and discussed for a long time what they should do now and how to deal with the "troublemaker" who had come from Torzhok for no reason at all. Who called him? Why is he here? And the kebuns decided that it would be best to kill Mitrophan."Shall we do it ourselves or shall we command the shepherds?" One of the kebuns asked. The decision was announced to the shepherds, but how amazed the kebuns were when the shepherds replied to their command that there was nothing to kill Mitrophan for. Such was the answer of the majority of the Lapps. The ground shook under the feet of the priests. They tried, as usual, to act with threats, fear and promises of idolatrous vengeance, but this led to nothing.The young Lapp said:- It is easy to kill Mitrophan, but I do not see guilt on him. Challenge Mitrophan to a bet and prove that he is mistaken. If he is put to shame, then we will banish him from here forever, and Ilmarinen will again offer sacrifices to the saida (sacred stones) and honor you, the priests."You have come up with a good idea," said another Lapp, addressing the young man.The majority agreed.The kebuns hesitated for a long time whether to submit to the will of the majority and challenge Mitrophan to a dispute or not. The situation is not easy. On the one hand, to refuse to argue means to show one's powerlessness in matters of faith before Muscovy, and on the other hand, how to summon Mitrophan, how to start an argument with him, if one has a premonition of one's defeat? However, it was necessary to decide on something. And the kebuns, after much deliberation, agreed to the bet. In the depths of the soul of each of them there was a timid hope that Mitrophan was also shaky in his teachings and that it would be possible to bring him down. The main thing, the priests thought, was that he was young. And youth is often based not so much on one's own knowledge as on enthusiasm.Mitrophan was given a challenge."Prove that your faith is right, and ours is not, and all of us, as long as you have seen us, will believe in your God. If you cannot prove it, then depart from us forever. We want to live in peace and quiet, and we do not want to shed human blood. But if you trouble us, we will have to kill you, fulfilling the will of the gods.—I have said, I say, and I will always say," answered Mitrophanes, "that the only true faith is the Christian faith. He who believes in Christ will be saved. Let your kebuns prove that I am lying, let them oppose the teaching of the Gospel and try to refute it. I am ready to meet them, old, wise, and supposedly conversing with the gods... I will defend the faith of Christ, and let them speak in defense of idolatry. The truth does not sink. And it will soon come to light, and you will see for yourself that you are all in error and that salvation and a blessed life beyond the grave await those who live according to the commandments, yes, according to the commandments of our Lord Jesus Christ. I'm alone. There are three kebuns. So let them prove my error... An argument began. Seething with hatred for the meek, loving preacher, the kebuns tried in vain to outdo him in argument. Mitrofan was calm and confidently proved them wrong. It became clear to the Lapps present on whose side the victory was. Their kebuns are put to shame by the young Muscovites! And they stopped the argument."Well, do you see now whose truth is? And this silence spoke more eloquently than any words to the pagan priests that their dominion over the minds of the credulous "children of the tundra" was coming to an end and that the Gospel teaching was taking possession of them. Left alone, the kebuns decided to get rid of their rival. Kill him, and that's the end of it. The plan quickly matured in the old people's heads, and now it remained to put it into effect. The kebuns were considering where they should kill Mitrophan. At last they decided to track down where he slept at night, when he left the Lapps. And they tracked him down.— Mitrophan spends his nights in a cave that darkens in the middle of the buttermilk (mountain) that rises beyond the Pechenga River.— In the cave and kill him! Who should kill Mitrophan?It was decided: the three of them, the kebuns, would go to the buttermilk and, having waited for Mitrophan to be alone, would finish with him. The priests stealthily made their way to the cave. Leaving the Lapps, they learned that Ilmarinen was currently near the reindeer. Therefore, there is only one Muscovite, and he cannot cope with the three of them. Stepping cautiously, they finally reached the buttermilk. There's a cave over there. It is necessary to find out whether Mitrofan is asleep or not. If he is asleep, then the reprisal against him will be short. And the three of them have nothing to do here. Someone alone will enter the cave and stun the sleeping person with a strong blow. And then - only finish off. But if the Moskov is not sleeping, then all of them will have to attack him, otherwise things may end badly for them.The senior kebun crawled to the cave and looked into its opening. He looked in and involuntarily recoiled: standing on his knees, with his back to the entrance, Mitrophan was praying in front of the cross that hung on the wall. The worshipper did not even turn around, so he plunged into prayer. Kebun signaled to his men to sneak up as quietly as possible. As soon as the two younger kebuns approached, the eldest nodded to them, and the three of them rushed into the cave with a scream, but immediately, at the entrance, they fell down and convulsed. Mitrophan saw them and was surprised."Why are you here? He asked them. The unfortunates were already lying motionless, like dead men."Why are you here?" What's the matter with you? Mitrophan said frightened and at the same time sympathetically.Instead of a clear answer, moans were heard. The kebuns fumbled around them with their hands, as blind people usually do when they are looking for something. They wanted and obviously could not say anything. They try to get up from the ground - they also can't. Mitrophan came out of the cave and looked at the old people in bewilderment. The chief priest muttered something, addressing Mitrophan. He did not understand anything, but bent down and helped him to his feet. Kebun staggered. Mitrophan supported him. Tears dripped from the kebun's old eyes, he raised his hands and spoke something, interrupted, stammering. It was clear that the tongue did not obey him.Meanwhile, a wondrous event took place: God punished the impious, who plotted against the life of an innocent man.Mitrophan finally understood what had happened behind his back while he was standing at prayer, and began to ask God to have mercy on the kebuns, who did not know what they were doing. He was still praying, and they could stand on their feet, although their legs gave way every now and then. At first, the priests looked with fear at the "mysterious" Muscovite, and then this fear was replaced by a kind of resignation. This obedience resembled the obedience of a beast of prey, which for a long time manifested its terrible strength and in the end had to submit to man."You have come here..." began Mitrophan.The chief priest interrupted him and uttered with some bitterness: "To kill you." And he lowered his gray head.A wrinkle suddenly fell between Mitrophan's eyebrows, and his lower lip quivered. "They came to kill me. God did not allow it. But what bad have I done to them? Can't the preaching of the truth be done without bloodshed and death? Is it possible that a person must become a murderer in order to finally bow down before the greatness of Christianity and become a sheep of the flock of Christ?" With undisguised sadness, Mitrophan looked at his enemies and only said: "Go back to where you came from. And having bowed down to the kebuns, he returned to the cave and began to pray again. Now he was already thanking God for his salvation.With a weak gait, as if after a long illness, the kebuns from the buttermilk set out. The night had not yet begun to melt away... The breeze, the harbinger of morning, did not fly over the tundra, which slept like the dead sleep of the desert. The kebuns were returning to the Lapps, depressed by what had just happened. Failure not only depressed them, but also frightened them. "What can happen," they thought, "when the Lapps find out about this? Have we not harmed ourselves? And, in turn, will not Mitrophan take revenge on us?" Such and similar thoughts came into the minds of each of the priests, and trembling took possession of them more and more strongly as they approached the Lapp camp. Fear for the consequences of a failed murder drove sleep away from them. It seemed to the Kebuns that if they fell asleep, Mitrophan would sneak up and kill them, that is, measure them with the same measure with which they measured him. The fear seemed to subside. I took my fatigue. Little by little, the kebuns began to fall asleep. And, finally, they fell asleep, and at the same time Mitrophan was praying for his enemies. And no one knew, not even Ilmarinen, Mitrofan did not tell any of the Lapps what had happened that night.