"Do you see," he asked me, "what the people have done and what they have suffered up to the very day, when you abused them with your stupid words? I have told you mostly of that which they did through another's will, but after I am rested I will tell you on what their souls have lived and how they have sought God." He coiled up on the rock and fell asleep like a little child. I could not sleep, but sat there as if surrounded by burning coals. It was already morning. The sun was high and the birds were singing, full-throated. The wood bathed in the dew and rustled, meeting the day friendly and green. People walked along the road; ordinary, every-day people. They walked with bowed heads and I could not see anything new in them. They had not grown in any way in my eyes. My instructor slept and snored and I sat next to him lost in thought. Men passed by one after the other, looked askance at us and did not even bow their heads to my salute. "Is it possible," I asked myself, "that these are the offspring of those righteous ones, those builders of the earth about whom I have just heard?" The dream and the reality became confused in my head, yet I understood that this meeting meant very much for me. The old man's words about God, the Son of the spirit of the people, disturbed me, and I could not reconcile myself to them, not knowing any other spirit except that one which was living in me. I racked my mind for all the peasants and the people I had known and tried to remember their words. They had many sayings, but their thoughts were poor. On the other hand I saw the dark exile of life, the bitter toil for bread, the winters of famine, the everlasting sadness of empty days, all the degradation which man has suffered and every outrage against his soul. Where could God be in this life? Where was there room for Him? The old man slept. I wanted to wake him and shout "Speak!" Soon he awoke, blinked his eyes and smiled. "Ah," he said, "the sun is already near noon. It is time for me to go." "Where will you go in such heat?" I asked. "We have bread, tea and sugar. Besides, I can't let you go. You must give me what you have promised." Then he became thoughtful and said: "Matvei, you should drop your wandering. It is too late, or perhaps too early for you. You have to learn. It is time for you to learn." "Is it not too late?" "Look at me," he answered. "I am fifty-three years old, and up to this day I learn from some little children." "Whose children?" I asked. "They are some children I know. You should live with them a year or two. You ought to go to the factory. It is not very far from here, about a hundred versts, where I have good friends." "First tell me what you wanted to say, and then I shall think where I am to go." We walked together on the path alongside the road and again I heard his clear voice and his strange words. "Christ was the first true people's God, born from the soul of the people like the phoenix from the flames."