But the inmost heart of their distress was the thought of their father going alone, forsaken by his own wife and children, to his distant place of exile. He had never beaten them, as most other fathers did, had never even spoken an unkind word to them. Their mother had been fretful, and unreasonably angry at times, especially with Marfa, but their father never. Then they would lose Michael; and what would Knishi be without him? He would go with his father, march by his side, share his lot all through the long journey by rail and river and on foot, till they reached their place of exile; and there he would make a new home in that far-off country. Sergius had looked forward to this fresh experience with profound interest. He had only once been out of Knishi, and that was when Michael and he had driven in the sledge to Kovylsk. He was longing to travel. He did not care how or where, but a passion for roving had taken possession of him. "Let us go and tell Father Cyril," said Michael. Never had Father Cyril been so unhappy as since the order had come to Knishi for a clean sweeping out of heresy from his parish. He could not bring himself to acquiesce in the stern decree; though rather than leave the victims of it to the cruel measures of the Starosta Okhrim, he had carried the tidings to the unfortunate women whose husbands had been in prison all the winter. Heartrending scenes he had witnessed, and harrowing petitions he had listened to, but he could do nothing. Those few days aged him by years. "I cannot bear it!" he sometimes cried when he was alone. But still he went about, comforting the sorrowful women, and as far as possible seeing that no very great injustice was done to them. It was through him that Yarina bought at fair prices many of the cattle. He had done all he could to soften the severity of the sentence. "I will go and see Tatiania," he said to Michael. But his persuasions were useless. "Will you give me my child?" she asked. "I cannot," he replied sorrowfully; "it is against the order. But she shall be as one of my own. My poor woman, you must submit to the will of God." "It's not God's will I should be robbed of my child," she replied; "if He had been pleased to take her to Himself, I would say, 'Thy will be done!' They are cruel men who have torn her from my arms; and I'll stay here and die rather than forsake her." "Think of your husband and Marfa and Sergius," said Father Cyril. "I love her better than all the world," cried Tatiania passionately—"better than our Lord Himself. God forgive me!" she added, frightened at the sound of the words she had uttered. Marfa shuddered, and Sergius stood aghast. Father Cyril spoke softly, with tears in his eyes. "Amen! God forgive you, poor mother!" he said. "She does not know what she is saying."