"The savage ate them."
"What do you mean?"
"Yes, he ate them. . . . Well, what of it?" he said. "He is an ignorant man. . . . His His mind is confused. . . . I could not prevent him. . . . He said: 'I shall meet a priest—he will forgive me.' What is the use of speaking—his mind was quite confused."
"Surely he did not eat the Chrism?"
"He ate everything, even the sponge, and carried off the pyx and deserted me. . . . He believes that the priest will forgive him—what does it matter. His mind is confused. Let us forgive him, Vladyko—may Christ only forgive us. Promise me not to look for him—poor fellow—or, if you find him . . . ."
"To forgive him?"
"Yes, I ask it for Christ's sake . . . . and when you come home, see that you say nothing about it to the little enemies, or perhaps the cunning people will wreak their zeal on the poor fellow. Please do not tell them."
I gave him my word, and kneeling down near the dying man confessed him. At the same moment a gaily dressed sorceress rushed into the tent, which was now crowded with people, and began beating her tambourine; others followed her example, playing on wooden pitch-pipes and on
