by Lew Wallace
CHAPTER IV
THE RUSSIAN MONK
Sergius took a glass of red wine from the old attendant, and said:
"I should like your permission, O Princess, to make a confession."
His manner was that of one unused to the society of women. He wasconscious she was studying him, and spoke to divert her. As she wasslow answering, he added: "That you may not think me disposed to abusethe acquaintance you honor me with, especially as you have not yet readthe letter of the good Father Hilarion upon which I rely for yourbetter regard, I ask the permission rather to show the degree of yourkindness to me. It may interest you also to learn of the confirmationof a certain faith you are perhaps unwittingly lending a novice in theways of the world."
She had been studying him, and her first impression was now confirmed.His head in shape and pose was a poet's; the long, wavy, flaxen hair,parted in the middle, left small space for the forehead, which wasnevertheless broad and white, with high-arched, well-defined brows forbase. The eyes were gray. In repose they had a dreamy introspectionalexpression. The mustache and beard, the first growth of youth spententirely indoors, were as yet too light to shade any part of the face.The nose was not enough _retrousse_ to be irregular. In brief, the monkwas of the type now well known as Russian. Aside from height andapparent muscularity, he very nearly realized the Byzantine ideal ofChrist as seen in the cartoons excellently preserved in a mosque ofStamboul not far from the gate anciently San Romain now _Top Kapoussi_.
The appearance of the young monk, so strikingly suggestive of the beingmost sacred in the estimation of the Princess, was at the moment lesscurious to her than a certain habit observable in him. The look ofbrightness attendant upon the thought he was putting into form would,when the utterance was through, suffer a lapse which, for want ofstrictly definite words, may be described as a sombering of the eyeswhen they were widest open, a gazing beyond at something else than theopposite speaker; implying that the soul was become mysteriouslyoccupied apart from the mind. The effect was as if she had before hertwo widely different characters making themselves present at the sametime in one person. Unquestionably, though rarely, there is a dualityof nature in men, by which, to put it extremely, a seeming incapablemay be vastly capable, outward gentleness a mask for a spirit ofNeronian violence, dulness a low-lying cloud surcharged with genius.What shall be done with such a nature? When may it be relied upon? Whoshall ever come to really know it?
Occupied with the idea, the Princess heard but the conclusion of themonk's somewhat awkward apology, and she answered:
"The confession must be of something lighter than a sin. I will listen."
"A sin!" he exclaimed, with a blush. "Pardon me, O Princess. It was atrifle of which I spoke too seriously. I promise thou shalt take fromit nothing worse than a laugh at my simplicity. See thou these things?"
He gave her a glance full of boyish humor, and from a breast pocket ofhis cassock drew a bag of coarse yellow silk; thrusting a hand into itsmouth, he then brought out a number of square leathern chips stampedwith sunken letters, and laid them on the table before her.
"This you must know is our money." The Princess examined the pieces,and said:
"I doubt if our tradesmen would accept them."
"They will not. I am a witness to the fact. Nevertheless they willcarry a traveller, go he either way, from one end of our Great Prince'srealm to the other. When I left the Lavra, setting out on my journey,Father Hilarion gave me the bag, saying, as he put it into my hand,'Now upon coming to the port where the ship awaits thee, be sure toexchange the money with the merchants there for Byzantine gold; else,unless God come to thy aid, thou wilt be turned into a mendicant.' Andso I fully meant to do; but when I reached the port, I found it a citylarge, and full of people and sights wonderful to me, demanding to beseen. I forgot the injunction. Indeed I never thought of it until thismorning."
Here he laughed at himself, proving he was not yet seriously alive tothe consequences of his negligence. Presently he resumed:
"I landed only last night, and sick from the tossing of the sea, put upat an inn in the town yonder. I ordered breakfast, and, according to acustom of my people, offered to pay before tasting. The master of thehouse looked at my money, and told me to show him coin of gold; if notthat, then copper or brass, or even iron, in pieces bearing the name ofthe Emperor. Being told I had only this, he bade me look elsewhere forbreakfast. Now I had designed going to the great city to kiss the handof the Patriarch, of whom I have always heard as the wisest of men,before coming to thee; but the strait I was in was hard. Could I expectbetter of the innkeepers there? I had a button of gold--a memorial ofmy entry into the Lavra. That day Father Hilarion blessed it threetimes; and it bore a cross upon its face which I thought might make itacceptable as if it were lettered with the name of Constantine. Aboatman consented to take it for rowing me to thy landing. Behold! Thouhast my confession!"
His speech to this time had been in Greek singularly pure and fluent;now he hesitated, while his eyes, open to the full, sombered, as iffrom a field in the brain back of them a shadow was being cast throughhis face. When next he spoke it was in his native tongue.
The Princess observed her guest with increasing interest; for she waswholly unused to such artlessness in men. How could Father Hilarionhave intrusted business of importance to an envoy so negligent? Hisconfession, as he termed it, was an admission, neither more nor less,that he had no money of the country into which he was come. Andfurther, how could the habit of lapsing in thought, or more simply, ofpassing abruptly from the present subject, be explained except on thetheory of something to which he had so given himself it had becomeovermastering and all absorbent? This, she saw intuitively, would provethe key to the man; and she set about finding it out.
"Your Greek, good Sergius, is excellent; yet I did not understand thewords with which you concluded."
"I beg pardon," he replied, with a change of countenance. "In mymother's tongue I repeated a saying of the Psalmist, which you shallhave voice and look as Father Hilarion has given it to me oftener thanI am days old." Then his voice lowered into a sweet intensity fittingthe text: "'The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.' Those were thewords, Princess; and who shall say they do not comprehend all there isof religion?"
The answer was unexpected, the manner affecting; never had she heardconviction and faith more perfectly affirmed. More than a monk, theyoung man might be a preacher! And Father Hilarion might have grownwiser of his years! Perhaps he knew, though at a vast distance, thatthe need of the hour in Constantinople was not a new notable--a bishopor a legate--so much as a voice with power of persuasion to still thecontentions with which her seven hills were then resounding. The idea,though a surmise, was strong enough to excite a desire to read the holyman's letter. She even reproached herself for not having done so.
"The worthy priest gave me the same saying in the same words," shesaid, rising, "and they lose nothing of their meaning by thyrepetition. We may speak of them hereafter. For the present, to keepthee from breakfast were cruel. I will go and make terms with myconscience by reading what thou hast brought me from the Father. Helpthyself freely as if thou wert the most favored of guests; or rather"--she paused to emphasize the meaning--"as though I had been bidden toprepare for thy coining. Should there be failure in anything beforethee, scruple not to ask for more. Lysander will be at thy service. Imay return presently."
The monk arose respectfully, and stood until she disappeared behind thevases and flowers, leaving in his memory a fadeless recollection ofgraciousness and beauty, which did not prevent him from immediatelyaddressing himself as became a hungry traveller.
