" that is to say, they
belonged to the sect which refused to accept the reforms of errors
(which had crept into the service-books and ritual through the
carelessness of copyists and ignorance of the proper forms) instituted
by the Patriarch Nikon in the time of Peter the Great's father, after
consulting the Greek Patriarchs and books. In earlier times, these Old
Believers burned themselves by the thousand. In the present century,
this band of Kazaks simply emigrated. Then came the Crimean war. The
Kazaks set out for the wars, the priest blessed them for the campaign,
and prayed for victory against Russia. Moreover, they went to battle
with their flock, and were captured. Prisoners of war, traitors to both
church and state, these three priests were condemned to residence in a
monastery in Suzdal. "I was in the army then," said Count Tolstoy, "and
heard of the matter at the time. Then I forgot all about it; so did
everybody else, apparently. Long afterward, an Old Believer, a merchant
in Tula, spoke to me about it, and I found that the three priests were
still alive and in the monastery. I managed to get them released, and we
became friends. One died; one of the others is here in Moscow, a very
old man now. We will go and see him, but I must find out the hour of the
evening service. You will see the ritual as it was three hundred years
ago."

"You must not utter a word, or smile," said one of the company. "They
will think that you are ridiculing them, and will turn you out."

"Oh, no," said the count. "Still, it is better not to speak."

"I have had some experience," I remarked. "Last Sunday, at the Saviour
Cathedral, I asked my mother if I should hold her heavy fur coat for
her; and she smiled slightly as she said, 'No, thank you.' A peasant
heard our foreign tongue, saw the smile, and really alarmed us by the
fierce way in which he glared at us. We only appeased his wrath by
bowing low when the priest came out with the incense."

So that plan was made, and some others.

When we were descending the stairs, Count Tolstoy came out upon the
upper landing, which is decorated with the skin of the big bear which
figures in one of his stories, and called after us:--

"Shall you be ashamed of my dress when I come to the hotel for you?"

"I am ashamed that you should ask such a question," I answered; and he
laughed and retreated. I allowed the lackey to put on my galoshes and
coat, as usual, by the way.

The next afterno