Father Sergius | Page 9

the knock was
repeated. Yes, it was a knock close at hand, at his door, and with it the
sound of a woman's voice.
'My God! Can it be true, as I have read in the Lives of the Saints, that
the devil takes on the form of a woman? Yes--it is a woman's voice.
And a tender, timid, pleasant voice. Phui!' And he spat to exorcise the
devil. 'No, it was only my imagination,' he assured himself, and he
went to the corner where his lectern stood, falling on his knees in the
regular and habitual manner which of itself gave him consolation and
satisfaction. He sank down, his hair hanging over his face, and pressed
his head, already going bald in front, to the cold damp strip of drugget
on the draughty floor. He read the psalm old Father Pimon had told him
warded off temptation. He easily raised his light and emaciated body on
his strong sinewy legs and tried to continue saying his prayers, but
instead of doing so he involuntarily strained his hearing. He wished to
hear more. All was quiet. From the corner of the roof regular drops
continued to fall into the tub below. Outside was a mist and fog eating
into the snow that lay on the ground. It was still, very still. And
suddenly there was a rustling at the window and a voice--that same
tender, timid voice, which could only belong to an attractive
woman--said:
'Let me in, for Christ's sake!'
It seemed as though his blood had all rushed to his heart and settled
there. He could hardly breathe. 'Let God arise and let his enemies be
scattered . . .'
'But I am not a devil!' It was obvious that the lips that uttered this were
smiling. 'I am not a devil, but only a sinful woman who has lost her
way, not figuratively but literally!' She laughed. 'I am frozen and beg
for shelter.'

He pressed his face to the window, but the little icon-lamp was
reflected by it and shone on the whole pane. He put his hands to both
sides of his face and peered between them. Fog, mist, a tree, and--just
opposite him--she herself. Yes, there, a few inches from him, was the
sweet, kindly frightened face of a woman in a cap and a coat of long
white fur, leaning towards him. Their eyes met with instant recognition:
not that they had ever known one another, they had never met before,
but by the look they exchanged they--and he particularly--felt that they
knew and understood one another. After that glance to imagine her to
be a devil and not a simple, kindly, sweet, timid woman, was
impossible.
'Who are you? Why have you come?' he asked.
'Do please open the door!' she replied, with capricious authority. 'I am
frozen. I tell you I have lost my way.'
'But I am a monk--a hermit.'
'Oh, do please open the door--or do you wish me to freeze under your
window while you say your prayers?'
'But how have you . . .'
'I shan't eat you. For God's sake let me in! I am quite frozen.'
She really did feel afraid, and said this in an almost tearful voice.
He stepped back from the window and looked at an icon of the Saviour
in His crown of thorns. 'Lord, help me! Lord, help me!' he exclaimed,
crossing himself and bowing low. Then he went to the door, and
opening it into the tiny porch, felt for the hook that fastened the outer
door and began to lift it. He heard steps outside. She was coming from
the window to the door. 'Ah!' she suddenly exclaimed, and he
understood that she had stepped into the puddle that the dripping from
the roof had formed at the threshold. His hands trembled, and he could
not raise the hook of the tightly closed door.

'Oh, what are you doing? Let me in! I am all wet. I am frozen! You are
thinking about saving your soul and are letting me freeze to death . . .'
He jerked the door towards him, raised the hook, and without
considering what he was doing, pushed it open with such force that it
struck her.
'Oh--PARDON!' he suddenly exclaimed, reverting completely to his
old manner with ladies.
She smiled on hearing that PARDON. 'He is not quite so terrible, after
all,' she thought. 'It's all right. It is you who must pardon me,' she said,
stepping past him. 'I should never have ventured, but such an
extraordinary circumstance . . .'
'If you please!' he uttered, and stood aside to let her pass him. A strong
smell of fine scent, which he had long not encountered, struck him. She
went through the little