eep, while his mind is stirred and he is thrown into a tremor. In
the canticle to the Holy Mother are the words: 'Rejoice, O Thou too
high for human thought to reach! Rejoice, O Thou too deep for angels'
eyes to fathom!' In another place in the same canticle: 'Rejoice,
O tree that bearest the fair fruit of light that is the food of the
faithful! Rejoice, O tree of gracious spreading shade, under which
there is shelter for multitudes!'"

Ieronim hid his face in his hands, as though frightened at something
or overcome with shame, and shook his head.

"Tree that bearest the fair fruit of light . . . tree of gracious
spreading shade. . . ." he muttered. "To think that a man should
find words like those! Such a power is a gift from God! For brevity
he packs many thoughts into one phrase, and how smooth and complete
it all is! 'Light-radiating torch to all that be . . .' comes in
the canticle to Jesus the Most Sweet. 'Light-radiating!' There is
no such word in conversation or in books, but you see he invented
it, he found it in his mind! Apart from the smoothness and grandeur
of language, sir, every line must be beautified in every way, there
must be flowers and lightning and wind and sun and all the objects
of the visible world. And every exclamation ought to be put so as
to be smooth and easy for the ear. 'Rejoice, thou flower of heavenly
growth!' comes in the hymn to Nikolay the Wonder-worker. It's not
simply 'heavenly flower,' but 'flower of heavenly growth.' It's
smoother so and sweet to the ear. That was just as Nikolay wrote
it! Exactly like that! I can't tell you how he used to write!"

"Well, in that case it is a pity he is dead," I said; "but let us
get on, father, or we shall be late."

Ieronim started and ran to the rope; they were beginning to peal
all the bells. Probably the procession was already going on near
the monastery, for all the dark space behind the tar barrels was
now dotted with moving lights.

"Did Nikolay print his hymns?" I asked Ieronim.

"How could he print them?" he sighed. "And indeed, it would be
strange to print them. What would be the object? No one in the
monastery takes any interest in them. They don't like them. They
knew Nikolay wrote them, but they let it pass unnoticed. No one
esteems new writings nowadays, sir!"

"Were they prejudiced against him?"

"Yes, indeed. If Nikolay had been an elder perhaps the brethren
would have been interested, but he wasn't forty, you know. The