Well!whatarethesegrimacesfor?Doyoumeantomakeuswaituntilto-morrowforyourbenediction?TheCountpronouncedthesewordsintherudetoneofacorporalorderingrecruitstomarchindouble-quicktime.FatherAlexismadeaboundasifhehadreceivedasharpblowfromawhipacrosshisback,andinhisagitationandhastetoreachhisstool,hestruckviolentlyagainstthecornerofacarvedsideboard;thisterribleshockdrewfromhimacryofpain,butdidnotarresthisspeed,andrubbinghiship,hethrewhimselfintohisplaceand,withoutgivinghimselftimetorecoverbreath,hemumbledinanasaltoneandinanunintelligiblevoice,agracewhichhesoonfinished,andeverybodyhavingmadethesignofthecross,dinnerwasserved.
Whatastrangerolereligionplayshere,thoughtGilberttohimselfashecarriedhisspoontohislips.Theywouldonnoaccountdineuntilithadblessedthesoup,andatthesametimetheybanishittotheendofthetableasaleperwhoseimpurecontacttheyfear.Duringthefirstpartoftherepast,Gilbert'sattentionwasconcentratedonFatherAlexis.Thispriestlyfaceexcitedhiscuriosity.Atfirstsightitseemedimpressedwithacertainmajesty,whichwasheightenedbytheblackfoldsofhisrobe,andthegoldcrucifixwhichhunguponhisbreast.FatherAlexishadahigh,openforehead;hislarge,stronglyaquilinenosegaveamanlycharactertohisface;hisblackeyes,finelyset,weresurmountedbywell-curvedeyebrows,andhislonggrizzlybeardharmonizedverywellwithhisbronzedcheeksfurrowedbyvenerablewrinkles.Seeninrepose,thisfacehadacharacterofaustereandimposingbeauty.AndifyouhadlookedatFatherAlexisinhissleep,youwouldhavetakenhimforaholyanchoriterecentlycomeoutofthedesert,orbetterstill,foraSaintJohncontemplatingwithclosedeyesupontheheightofhisPatmosrock,thesublimevisionsoftheApocalypse;butassoonasthefaceofthegoodpriestbecameanimated,thecharmwasbroken.Itwasbutanexpressivemask,flexible,attimesgrotesque,wherewerepredictedthefugitiveandshallowimpressionsofasoulgentle,innocent,andeasy,butnotimaginativeorexalted.Itwasthenthatthemonkandtheanchoritesuddenlydisappeared,andthereremainedbutachildsixtyyearsold,whosecountenance,byturnsuneasyorsmiling,expressednothingbutpuerilepre-occupations,orstillmorepuerilecontent.Thistransformationwassorapidthatitseemedalmostlikeajuggler'strick.YousoughtSt.John,butfoundhimnomore,andyouweretemptedtocryout,Oh,FatherAlexis,whathasbecomeofyou?Thesoulnowlookingoutofyourfaceisnotyours.ThisFatherAlexiswasanexcellentman;butunfortunately,hehadtoodecidedatasteforthepleasuresofthetable.Hecouldalsobeaccusedofhavingastrongingredientofvanityinhischaracter;buthisself-lovewassoingenuous,thatthemostseverejudgecouldbutpardonit.FatherAlexishadsucceededinpersuadinghimselfthathewasagreatartist,andthisconvictionconstitutedhishappiness.Thismuchatleastcouldbesaidofhim,thathemanagedhisbrushandpencilwithremarkabledexterity,andcouldexecutefourorfivesquarefeetoffrescopaintinginafewhours.ThedoctrinesofMountAthos,whichplacehehadvisitedinhisyouth,hadnomoresecretsforhim;Byzantineaestheticshadpassedintohisfleshandbones;heknewbyheartthefamousGuidetoPainting,drawnupbythemonkDenysandhispupilCyrilofScio.Inshort,hewasthoroughlyacquaintedwithallthereceiptsbymeansofwhichworksofgeniusareproduced,andthus,withtheaidofcompasses,hepaintedfrominspiration,thosegoodandholymenwhostrikinglyresembledcertainfiguresongoldbackgroundsintheconventsofLavraandIveron.ButonethingbroughtmortificationandchagrintoFatherAlexis,--CountKostiaPetrovitchrefusedtobelieveinhisgenius!
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