One day, as Michael was going down to the river to look after some wicker fish-traps he had hidden in the water, he saw a girl standing in the track leading to the washing-place, with a big boy brandishing a whip over her. Before he could reach them, the long lash was falling upon the girl's bowed shoulders and bare ankles in rapid stinging stripes. She stood motionless, protecting her face with her hands, and uttering no cry. The clothes she had been washing lay trampled in the mud. It was Marfa, and the boy who was flogging her was Okhrim's grandson, and a bully and a coward. Michael had just been reading how Moses in Egypt saw one of his brethren suffer wrong, and forthwith avenged him that was oppressed, and smote the Egyptian. He considered the example of Moses was to be followed. "Stop that!" he cried, seizing the whip, and breaking the handle of it in two. "You coward! Come on and fight me, if you dare, you mean, skulking, miserable coward!" But the boy dared not fight. He stood still for a moment glaring at them; then, spitting at Marfa, turned away, running as fast as he could. Michael was for pursuing him, but Marfa held him fast by the arm. "Oh, Michael, you shouldn't, you shouldn't!" she sobbed, lifting up her tear-stained face. "I could have borne it. Oh yes, I was bearing it. I was saying to myself, 'This is for Jesus Christ's sake.' I didn't cry out, did I, Michael?" "No," he answered; "you were quite dumb. But I couldn't stand by and see a girl flogged like that. No, no, Marfa! I did right, and I should do it again." "It will bring us both into trouble," said Marfa, picking up the soiled clothes, and carrying them back to the washing-stage. Michael lingered about till she was ready to go home. And after seeing her there safely, he went on to his father's house, carefully avoiding the village street. Alexis looked greatly troubled when Michael told him what had happened. "I will go and tell Father Cyril after dark," he said. "If anyone can help us, he can and will. You did right, but no one knows what the issue may be. Tell me, my son, did you feel angry with the boy?" Michael flung back his head, and his face grew crimson. "I felt as savage as a wild beast," he cried; "if I had not broken the whip and flung it away the first moment, I should have flogged him." "Thank God you didn't!" answered Alexis. "But oh, Michael, my boy, you must learn to 'love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you.' It is our Lord's command." "It is too hard for me yet, father," said Michael frankly. "I could forgive them gladly and make friends again, if they wanted it. But they delight in being enemies. It's as much fun to some of them to lurk round corners and throw stones at us from behind, as it used to be to play games with us. But I'll try to keep our Lord's commands; I'll try my utmost. A boy can't be perfect all at once."