th enough to defend you from this Napoleonder."

Then the old hermit-monks and the archimandrites and the metropolitans
all prayed, with tears in their eyes, to the Lord God, and prostrated
themselves until their knees were all black and blue and there were big
bumps on their foreheads. With tearful eyes, the whole Russian people,
too, from the Tsar to the last beggar, prayed God for mercy and help.
And they took the sacred ikon of the Holy Mother of God of Smolensk,
the pleader for the grief-stricken, and carried it to the famous field
of Borodino, and, bowing down before it, with tearful eyes, they cried:
"O Most Holy Mother of God, thou art our life and our hope! Have mercy
on us, and intercede for us soon."

And down the dark face of the ikon, from under the setting of pearls in
the silver frame, trickled big tears. And all the army and all God's
people saw the sacred ikon crying. It was a terrible thing to see, but
it was comforting.

Then the Lord God heard the wail of the Russian people and the prayers
of the Holy Virgin the Mother of God of Smolensk, and he cried out to
the angels and the archangels: "The hour of my wrath has passed. The
people have suffered enough for their sins and have repented of their
wickedness. Napoleonder has destroyed nations enough. It's time for him
to learn mercy. Who of you, my servants, will go down to the earth--who
will undertake the great work of softening the conqueror's heart?"

The older angels and the archangels didn't want to go. "Soften his
heart!" they cried. "He is made of sand--he hasn't any navel--he is
pitiless--we're afraid of him!"

Then Ivan-angel stepped forward and said: "I'll go."

At that very time Napoleonder had just gained a great victory and was
riding over the field of battle on a greyhound of a horse. He trampled
with his horse's hoofs on the bodies of the dead, without pity or
regret, and the only thought in his mind was, "As soon as I have done
with Russia, I'll march against the Chinese and the white Arabs; and
then I shall have conquered exactly the whole world."

But just at that moment he heard some one calling, "Napoleonder! O
Napoleonder!" He looked around, and not far away, under a bush on a
little mound, he saw a wounded Russian soldier, who was beckoning to him
with his hand. Napoleonder was surprised. What could a wounded Russian
soldier want of him? He turned his horse and rode to the spot. "What do
you want?" he asked the soldier.