“Ah! no doubt we have sinned, so we shall not hear her speak. They answer only such as are sinless; and we are sinners!” “True, Yuzka, true! we are sinful, we have sinned. O Lord! so it is! Aye, I stole some bits of string from master once. And an old strap besides.... Yes, and also....” He could go no farther; remorse and repentance for his faults shook the lad with a convulsion of tears and sobs; and Yuzka, following his example, wept from the bottom of her heart. They cried together, and would not be comforted till they had laid bare before each other all their “manifold sins and offences.” At home, no one remarked their absence, for all were piously singing hymns—not Christmas carols, which it was not deemed proper to strike up until after midnight. On the other side of the house, Pete was having a wash and making a grand toilet. He had completely changed his clothes, Yagna having brought him another suit of his, that he had put by in the store-room. But what a cry arose when he appeared before them, clad—no longer in his military cloak and grey uniform—but in the usual garb of a peasant! “They laughed at me and nicknamed me Grey Dog,” he faltered; “so I have changed my clothes.” “Change your speech, and not your garments!” Yagustynka snarled. “That likewise he will get back, since his soul has remained Polish.” “And what marvel if he should forget something, after five years far away, never once hearing his mother-tongue spoken?” Here they broke off their talk; the high-pitched tinkle of the mass-bell was now heard in the chamber. “We must be off: it is ringing for the shepherd’s mass!” And in a very short time all had set out, save Yagustynka. She stayed to watch the house, and still more to loose the reins in solitude to the bitterness of her heart. The mass-bell meantime rang, rang, rang, like the quick twitter of a bird, calling them to church. Out of their cabins they poured; now and then a ruddy refulgence shone from the opening and closing doors, with a flash as of lightning. In some huts, the fire was put out or covered. In the dark night, as they hurried on, a voice would be heard, or a cough, and the crunching of shoes on the snow, and the holy words of mutual greeting: and on they went, deeper and deeper into the dark-grey blackness, till only their footsteps sounded in the frozen air. From afar they now began to perceive the glowing church-windows, and the great door thrown open and pouring forth light, and the people surging in—billows on billows, slowly filling the aisle, decorated with Christmas trees of many a kind; crowded along the white walls, swarming in front of the altar, filling the pews in an ever-rising flood, rolling and undulating to and fro with the incoming human tide, which brought in along with it a fog of condensed breath-vapour, so thick that the altar-lights shone dim and scarcely seen through its folds. And still the people came in, came in continually.