entered it.

"I see Him! There He is! I come, Lord. I come!" These words were heard
from the other side of the passage which was lit up by old Ivan's
torch. The miners followed him, crawling one after the other.

On the other side of the opening the gallery, which was hollowed through
the rock itself, was much higher. The torches showed seams of flint and
strata of white marble. The air circulated freely, and it seemed as
though there were somewhere an invisible outlet; the flames of the
torches flickered violently and it felt cold. A torrent of water fell
down from the top of the rocky walls, and ran noisily along the gallery,
winding from one wall to another. Soon it fell roaring into the black
gaping mouth of a crevasse and disappeared in the bottomless depth.
Still holding his torch high, Ivan skirted the precipice without
appearing to notice it.

"There is one thing I should like to know," said a little boy, pressing
up close to a miner in the gloom.

"What is that?" asked the latter in a low voice.

"What is it the old man sees there?"

"Hush! Some heavenly power is guiding him."

The gallery through which they were passing just now still formed part
of the Voskressensky mine, but it had been deserted for a long time,
after having been worked out. As it had been cut through the native
rock, the walls were solid and unshakable. Suddenly Ivan stopped.

"Well, what is it?"

"He is there.... Standing. Oh, listen! Do you hear?"

Ivan leant forward, straining his ear to catch mysterious sounds. As a
matter of fact distant and strange moanings were audible. Was it the
complaint of a spring imprisoned in the rock? Was it the noise of a
landslip? Or was it simply the sound made by a current of air passing
through the fissures of the rock?

"A terrible thing happened here. Blood has been shed, yes, yes, I
remember," murmured the old man, talking to himself and glancing about
him. "Yes, it is there. He struck him on the head with his pick. He
killed his brother ... like Cain. This is where they buried him.... Here
I am, Lord, here I am!" And he resumed his march.

The chief miner who had heard him remembered a long-forgotten tragedy,
that of two brothers who had quarrelled just here. The elder, goaded to
fury by the jeers of the younger, had raised his pickaxe and struck his
brother with the point. Without even uttering a cry, the latter had
collapsed. He had been probably buried on the spot where he had falle