Father Cyril hastened in, and opened the document and read in unbroken silence, whilst his wife waited impatiently for news. He sank down on a seat, and covered his face with his hands. "Oh, my dearest one!" she cried. "Tell me what is the matter quickly." "A cruel thing," he groaned, "a cruel thing; and I must do it." "What is it?" she asked again breathlessly. "An order from the consistory," he answered, "that I must take all Stundist children between two and ten years of age from their parents, and place them in Orthodox families; their maintenance to be paid for by fines levied on their heretic fathers. Think of it, dear wife—think of our own little ones. Ah! Those monks who have neither wife nor children do not know how cruel they are!" The Matoushka burst into a passion of tears, when Father Cyril told her with a broken voice and a face of profound pity. "I'd rather see my children in their coffins," she sobbed, "than lose them in such a cruel way. Poor Tatiania! Her husband in prison, and little Clava to be taken from her. It will break her heart! And Velia Alexovna! How old is she, Cyril?" "Not ten yet," he answered. "Oh, it is frightful, and absolutely useless! We shall never win them back if the authorities adopt measures like these. Would to God I could disregard the order!" "Cannot you put it off, and go to see the archbishop?" she asked. "No," he replied; "the Starosta has got an order from the police in Kovylsk to assist me in carrying out the order. Okhrim will rejoice over it; he hates the Stundists with all his heart, and so does the old Matoushka. Oh, they are at the bottom of all this!" Father Cyril could not sleep that night, his brain was too much worried with vexatious and perplexing questions. How should he break the terrible tidings to the Stundist families? How could he bear the heartrending scenes he would be obliged to witness—himself the unwilling messenger of the cruel sentence? And what homes could he choose for the children, whom he must provide for as carefully and kindly as possible? They must be homes with which the sober, cleanly, and religious parents might be moderately content. He awoke his wife to ask her if she would be willing to take Velia and Clava into their own home, to live with their own children, and she answered drowsily, "Yes, yes, beloved!" Surely no objection could be made to this step. A priest's house was an Orthodox house. Then there was Yarina, the richest woman in Knishi, with only one little girl. True she was Okhrim's daughter-in-law, but she was a widow for the second time, and quite independent of her husband's father. She was regular at church; though she was not as devout as the old Matoushka, Father Vasili's widow, who never missed a church service. He would not place a child with the old Matoushka—her temper was bad, and she was too miserly—a child would lead a terrible life with her.