The boys' spirits could not fail to be touched by this apathy of hopeless wretchedness. They could feel for it, though they did not feel it themselves. What amazed them was that most of the exiles turned a deaf ear to all the teaching of the Bible, which filled the Stundists with divine courage and strength. They could not hear the heavenly music or see the heavenly light which filled their own souls. Yet a certain lethargy fell upon them. They walked for hours side by side in silence, only now and then glancing sympathetically at one another, as they took in turns the burden, alas! very light now, of little Clava, who was growing smaller and weaker every day. She scarcely ever set her foot to the ground now. "What are you thinking of?" asked Sergius one day, after a long silence. The jingle of the clanking chains and the creaking of the cart-wheels had become insupportable to him. "I began," answered Michael, "by wishing God would let me bear all these troubles, and let the rest go free, but a voice in my heart said to me that could not be, every man must bear his own burden. Then the thought came to me, that was just what our Lord felt, when He looked down from heaven, and saw all the misery and all the oppression under the sun. So He came, and He did bear our griefs and carry our sorrows. Then the same voice told me He was bearing them now, even in heaven, at the right hand of God. Surely, if He shares our troubles, we can bear them. We are following our Captain, and must be like brave soldiers, fighting manfully under His banner." "Yes," said Sergius, stepping out more energetically; "look at my father and yours, Michael. Always same, brave and faithful. But my mother! And little Clava! We can't expect them to feel like soldiers. They feel the hardships worse than we do. Katerina's baby is dead; and another baby died last night while were asleep. They have put it there, in the baggage-waggon. Only the strongest children will reach the end of the journey." "Where will the other children go?" asked Clava, with her languid head resting on his shoulder. "Where shall I go, Serge?" Sergius could not speak, but Michael answered in a cheerful, reassuring tone— "Why, my little darling," he said, "you know they go to heaven, where there are beautiful gardens, and happy places for little children to live in. Marfa is there; and the Lord Jesus takes the little ones into His arms, and wipes away all their tears, and there is no more crying for ever and ever!" "For ever and ever!" repeated the child, with a wan smile. "But, Michael, do you hear the children crying in the telega? Why doesn't the Lord Jesus take them all away into His beautiful garden, and keep them there for ever and ever? Oh, Michael, I wish He would take me!" "Do you want to go?" asked Michael. "If father and mother and Serge and you could go too," she said wistfully; "I'd be so alone by myself." "But Marfa is there," Michael replied.