"Yakoff," I said to him, "do thou hearken to me without anger...." And then I informed him of my intention; how we were both to go to Saint Mitrofany on foot; and it is about one hundred and fifty versts to Voronezh from our parts; and how pleasant it would be for us two, in the spring chill, having risen before dawn, to walk and walk over the green grass, along the highway; and how, if we made proper obeisance and prayed before the shrine of the holy man, perhaps--who knows?--the Lord God would show mercy upon us, and he would receive healing, of which there had already been many instances. And just imagine my happiness, my dear sir! "Very well," says Yakoff, only he does not turn round, but keeps on gazing at the sky.--"I consent. Let us go." I was fairly stupefied.... "My friend," I say, "my dear little dove, my benefactor!"... But he asks me: "When shall we set out?" "Why, to-morrow, if thou wilt," I say. So on the following day we started. We slung wallets over our shoulders, took staves in our hands, and set forth. For seven whole days we trudged on, and all the while the weather favoured us, and was even downright wonderful! There was neither sultry heat nor rain; the flies did not bite, the dust did not make us itch. And every day my Yakoff acquired a better aspect. I must tell you that Yakoff had not been in the habit of seeing _that one_ in the open air, but had felt him behind him, close to his back, or his shadow had seemed to be gliding alongside, which troubled my son greatly. But on this occasion nothing of that sort happened, and nothing made its appearance. We talked very little together ... but how greatly at our ease we felt--especially I! I saw that my poor boy was coming to life again. I cannot describe to you, my dear sir, what my feelings were then.--Well, we reached Voronezh at last. We cleaned up ourselves and washed ourselves, and went to the cathedral, to the holy man. For three whole days we hardly left the temple. How many prayer-services we celebrated, how many candles we placed before the holy pictures! And everything was going well, everything was fine; the days were devout, the nights were tranquil; my Yakoff slept like an infant. He began to talk to me of his own accord. He would ask: "Dost thou see nothing, father dear?" and smile. "No, I see nothing," I would answer.--What more could be demanded? My gratitude to the saint was unbounded. Three days passed; I said to Yakoff: "Well, now, dear son, the matter has been set in order; there's a festival in our street. One thing remains to be done; do thou make thy confession and receive the communion; and then, with God's blessing, we will go our way, and after having got duly rested, and worked a bit on the farm to increase thy strength, thou mayest bestir thyself and find a place--and Marfa Savishna will certainly help us in that," I said. "No," said Yakoff, "why should we trouble her? But I will take her a ring from Mitrofany's hand."