"Alas! Too many of them do," thought Father Cyril; "and they only come to church and to confession because they must." "I will make a servant of the girl," he said aloud; "and we will forego the monthly payment made for her. It would be dangerous to place her into a peasant's family, for she is thoroughly versed in all the Stundist doctrines." "We have considered all that," replied Father Paissy, "and we will place her where she can do no harm. The archbishop requires you to deliver up this Stundist girl to the widow of your predecessor, who is still living at Knishi. She is a pious woman, though not over-learned. I am acquainted with her, and I have already apprised her of the archbishop's decision." "The old Matoushka!" exclaimed Father Cyril in a tone of dismay. She bore the character of a virago; and there was not a woman in the village who would work for her. "Yes; the most suitable person to deal with the girl," replied Father Paissy. "Before you go, take a friendly warning from me. We hear you secretly favour these ignorant and impious heretics. We hear also that you interfere too much with secular affairs. There are several complaints lodged against you; we had none in Father Vasili's time. Take care, Father Cyril; take care!" CHAPTER XXIX A YOKE OF BONDAGE THE long white line of the road to Knishi, running straight up to the distant horizon, lay before Father Cyril, as he drove slowly along it, lost in thought. He was very unhappy, and his heart felt like lead. There was not a home in Knishi where he would not rather have placed Velia than with the old Matoushka. He knew her to be a hard, mean, and hypocritical woman; very devout, for she never failed to be present at mass every day. But he felt that she hated him for the many changes he had made in Father Vasili's slovenly performance of his duties, though she paid him exaggerated deference as her priest. She came often to confession— a religious duty more painful to him than to her. How could he give up the dear child, Velia, to her? There was, too, a painful sense that he was held in the iron hand of tyranny. He had never felt it before, and the touch penetrated to his very soul. It was a sin against humanity to give the child up to this woman; his conscience rebelled against it. Was it not also a sin against God? Father Cyril dropped his reins, and let his horse crawl on slowly at its own pace. Here was the question of questions—the question that had sent his parishioners into banishment. The tyranny man exercised over man, piercing to the very thoughts of the heart—was it a thing to be endured? "No!" said the Stundist. "We stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ has made us free."