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Updated: May 1, 2025
The priest's head had struck the pavement with such force that his skull was crushed and a crimson stream of blood gushed from his lips and nostrils, his body quivered, his maimed arm fell heavily at his side. Mikail, the Jew-hater, had ceased to exist. For a moment Loris was dazed and conscience-stricken. To kill a priest was a serious crime.
As soon as it was light the boats all put off, and anchoring a short distance out were soon engaged in fishing. Godfrey put down four lines, each with six of the hooks Mikail had purchased for him before starting from Kara. These were baited with strips of fish, and he and Luka were soon busy at work hauling in the fish.
I saw her come up this street, but when I turned the corner she had mysteriously disappeared. I tell you, Mikail, she is a beauty. I shall not rest until I find her!" "You are seeking perdition," exclaimed the priest, wrathfully. "A pretty face is Satan's trap to lure a weak soul into his toils." "Convent talk!" answered Loris, disdainfully.
At the windows of Winenki's house stood the women, their faces blanched with fear as they looked upon the blood-thirsty army without. "Down with the door!" shouted Loris, and a dozen ready hands shook the door upon its fastenings. Suddenly the men stopped in their mad work. Mikail the monk had rushed into their midst.
Thank God, there was a champion for Kathinka. Mikail the priest elbowed his way through the dense mass of maddened humanity and with eyes wilder and face more haggard than before, he approached the shrieking girl. With a cry of fury, he fell upon Loris and endeavored to tear him from his victim. Loris was for a moment too astonished to offer any resistance.
"I have cause to hate them," answered Mikail, with darkening brow and heaving bosom. "You are right, Mikail," answered the Governor, eagerly; "they are a despicable, blood-thirsty race." "But how will a crusade against the Hebrews relieve the troubled condition of Russia?" inquired another of the gentlemen. "It will divert the attention of the masses from their present sinister projects.
I am in search of facts and where shall I be better able to find them than in the Jews' stronghold, their synagogue?" Crossing himself devoutly, he opened the door and entered. Mikail sat down passively. For a moment he seemed dazed and stupefied. Perhaps it was only the heat and the glare of the burning candles; but gradually a strange spell came over him, which he tried in vain to shake off.
He inclosed a five-hundred-rouble note from his father as a present in return for the kindness he had shown him, and he also inclosed a directed envelope, so that he could acknowledge the receipt of the letter. An answer written by the priest of the village for Mikail was unable to write came at the end of five months. It was expressed in the most grateful terms.
Mikail continued looking out until the punishment was over. "He has not bled," he said; "he will die." "How do you mean, Mikail?" "Well, that is how it is, Ivan. It is as the executioner likes, or as he is ordered. He can, according to the way he strikes, cut the flesh or not each stroke. If it bleeds the man seldom dies, if it doesn't there is little chance for him.
Mikail read Latin and German fluently, developed a talent for theology, and his shrewd arguments won the admiration of his fellow-priests. "He has a brilliant mind," said Alexei to himself one day. "Who knows, he may yet become a bishop." The Russian Catholic Church occupies a unique position as compared with the churches of Southern and Western Europe.
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