In consequence of this I ordered such a large solid oaken cross to be placed over Kiriak's grave that even the Galician prince Vladimirko, who thought it unworthy to kiss small crosses, would not have been able to resist it; so we erected to Kiriak a cross that was twice the size of the Zyryan—and this was the last order I gave in my Siberian pastorate.
I do not know who will cut down this cross or who has already cut it down—whether it was the Buddhist lamas or the Russian officials—besides, what does it matter?
Now my tale is finished. Judge us all from what you see—I will not try to justify myself, but I will only say this: My simple Kiriak certainly understood Christ not less well than your foreign preachers, who jingle like a tinkling cymbal in your drawing-rooms and winter-gardens. Let them preach there surrounded by the wives of Lot, who, whatever words they may hear, will none of them go to Zoar, but, after shuffling about before God, while existence is dull for them, at the least change in their lives will look back at their Sodom and become columns of salt. This will be the only result of this drawing-room Christianity. What have we to do with these miracle workers? They do not want to walk on the earth, but desire to fly in the sky, and having
