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The shops were already shut, but at Erakin's, the millionaire shopkeeper's, they were trying the new electric lights, which flickered brightly, and a crowd of people were gathered round. Then came wide, dark, deserted streets, one after another; then the highroad, the open country, the fragrance of pines.
Sisoy stood a little and yawned. "O Lord, forgive me, a sinner." "They had the electric lights on at Erakin's today," he said; "I don't like it!" Father Sisoy was old, lean, bent, always dissatisfied with something, and his eyes were angry-looking and prominent as a crab's. "I don't like it," he said, going away. "I don't like it. Bother it!"
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