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Father Ferapont was sitting at the door of his cell on a low bench. A huge old elm was lightly rustling overhead. There was an evening freshness in the air. The monk from Obdorsk bowed down before the saint and asked his blessing. “Do you want me to bow down to you, monk?” said Father Ferapont. “Get up!” The monk got up. “Blessing, be blessed! Sit beside me. Where have you come from?”
But what is that compared with you, holy Father,” added the monk, growing more confident, “for all the year round, even at Easter, you take nothing but bread and water, and what we should eat in two days lasts you full seven. It’s truly marvelous—your great abstinence.” “And mushrooms?” asked Father Ferapont, suddenly. “Mushrooms?” repeated the surprised monk. “Yes.
Father Ferapont had been appointed to look after them and keep the lamps burning. The beekeeper, who lived close by the apiary, used to bring him the bread every three days, and even to this man who waited upon him, Father Ferapont rarely uttered a word.
“Terrible are your words, most holy and blessed Father,” the monk shook his head. But there was a doubtful look in his frightened little eyes. “Do you see this tree?” asked Father Ferapont, after a pause. “I do, blessed Father.” “You think it’s an elm, but for me it has another shape.” “What sort of shape?” inquired the monk, after a pause of vain expectation. “It happens at night.
“You cast out the evil spirit, but perhaps you are serving him yourself,” Father Païssy went on fearlessly. “And who can say of himself ‘I am holy’? Can you, Father?” “I am unclean, not holy. I would not sit in an arm-chair and would not have them bow down to me as an idol,” thundered Father Ferapont. “Nowadays folk destroy the true faith.
If something unusual was required, her mistress did not give orders, but suggested that this or that should be done. Vassilissa was the only one of her subjects whom Tatiana Markovna addressed by her full name. If she did address them by their baptismal names they were names that could not be compressed nor clipped, as for example Ferapont or Panteleimon.
And if he does not go to church, it’s because he knows when he ought to; he has his own rule.” It was to avoid the chance of these sinful murmurs that Father Ferapont was left in peace. As every one was aware, Father Ferapont particularly disliked Father Zossima.
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