"Kyrie eleison!"
"Chryste eleison!" responded Hlava and Tolima together.
All knelt down, for they understood that to be a litany repeated not only in time of death, but for the rescue from mortal peril of persons near and dear to us. Yagenka knelt, Yurand dropped from the bench to his knees, and they continued in a chorus,—
"Kyrie eleison! Chryste eleison!—O Father in Heaven, O God, have mercy on us! O Thou Son, the Redeemer, Lord of the world, have mercy on us!"
The voices of people and the imploring words: "Have mercy on us!" were mingled with the trilling of the nightingales.
All at once the tame she-wolf rose from the bearskin lying near Yurand's bench, approached the open window, rested her forepaws on it, and raising her triangular face toward the moon, began to howl in a low, plaintive voice.
