"No, Vladyko; I pray for them, and then I comfort them."
"Their sorcerers are said to be skilled in that."
"It is so, Vladyko—the sorcerers are not all alike; some really know many of the secret powers of nature—some of the sorcerers are not so bad. . . . They know me and even send some of their people to me."
"How is it you are on friendly terms with the Shamanists?"
"This is how it happened; The Buddhist lamas made a descent on them, and our officials took many of these Shamanists and put them to prison—the wild man is dull in prison—God only knows what happened to some of them! So I, poor sinner, used to go to the prison and took them buns, that I had begged from the merchants, and comforted them with words."
"Well, and what then?"
"They were grateful, they took them in Christ's name and praised Him; they said He was good—and kind. Yes, Vladyko, hold your peace, they themselves did not know that they were touching the hem of His garment."
"Yes, but how do they touch it?" I said. "All this has no meaning."
"Ah, Vladyko, why do you want to have everything at once. God's work goes its own way,
