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He who knows the feeling of pride——” Here the Bernardine grew weak and fell back on the bed, and the Warden said, deeply moved:— “Great are the judgments of God! It is the truth! the truth! So is it you? and are you Jacek? the Soplica? in a monk’s cowl? Have you been living a beggar’s life!
Robak often came by night to the tavern, and consulted secretly with the Jew about important matters; they said that the Monk was smuggling goods, but this was a slander unworthy of belief. Leaning on the table, Robak was discoursing in a low voice; a throng of gentry surrounded him and pricked up their ears, and bent down their noses to the Monk’s snuffbox.
The Monk’s speech aroused such amazement and such joy that the whole noisy assembly was silent for a moment; then they repeated under their breath the words, “Tobacco from Poland? Czenstochowa?
In spite of his ill-humor Rakitin looked at him with astonishment. He had never expected such a tirade from the gentle Alyosha. “She’s found some one to plead her cause! Why, are you in love with her? Agrafena Alexandrovna, our monk’s really in love with you, you’ve made a conquest!” he cried, with a coarse laugh.
He is an old man, almost ninety, tall and erect, with a withered face and sunken eyes, in which there is still a gleam of light. He is not dressed in his gorgeous cardinal’s robes, as he was the day before, when he was burning the enemies of the Roman Church—at this moment he is wearing his coarse, old, monk’s cassock.
“The elder, the splendid elder, the elder! The honor and glory of the monastery, Zossima. Such an elder!” But his incoherent talk was cut short by a very pale, wan-looking monk of medium height, wearing a monk’s cap, who overtook them. Fyodor Pavlovitch and Miüsov stopped.
On the 7th of July, after following the monk’s route through the mountain wilderness, the expedition came within two days’ march of the first city of Cibola.
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