“Secretary to the commander-in-chief, Oushakoff,” said he, shaking himself. “I am come to you on a secret mission.” The priest felt a little frightened. He remembered the papers brought by Rakitina. He shut the door, and invited his guest into the study, lighted a second candle, and having given his visitor a chair, took one himself and sat down to listen. “‘The Sermons of Massillon’?” said Oushakoff, rubbing his cold hands, and looking at the book of celebrated sermons lying on Father Peter’s table. “Then I suppose you know the French language well?” “I understand it a little,” said the priest, thinking within himself, “What can he want with me at this late hour?” “Very probably, Batiushka, you understand German also; and, who knows, perhaps Italian?” “I learnt German, and of course Italian resembles Latin very closely.” “Consequently,” continued the stranger, “you know a little of those languages?” “Well! here’s a Preceptor come to examine me,” thought the priest. “Yes! a little,” he answered. “Is it not strange, Father Peter, such questions; especially in the middle of the night?” said the stranger. “Now, confess; you do find it strange?” “Yes! it is rather late,” said the priest, gaping and looking at him. Oushakoff crossed one leg over the other, and looking up to the wall, saw a portrait of the then disgraced Archbishop Arsénia Matzaevitch, and thought to himself, “Ah! well, he sympathises with that scoundrel. I shall have to be very determined with him, very brusque!” “I will not delay any longer,” said he. “This is what it is. His Grace, the commander-in-chief, desires your Right Reverence to take all the necessary vessels, and immediately, without any delay, to follow me … to a foreigner--of the Grecian Faith.…” “But what is all this about?” “To celebrate two Sacraments.” “But which?” “Excuse me, but is it necessary for you to know, beforehand?” answered Oushakoff. “There must be no hesitation. The orders come from high powers.” “I must get everything ready,” answered the priest, “so I must know which.” “First Baptism, then Confession, and Holy Communion,” answered Oushakoff. “Now, in the night?” “Just so. A carriage is waiting.” “May I take the clerk?” “The orders are, ‘without any witnesses.’” “Where is it, if I may ask?” “I cannot answer. You will know all afterwards. Now, only one thing; there must be no delay, and the most profound secrecy,” said Oushakoff, with a haughty inclination of his head, although in earnest of his request, he pressed with both his hands his cocked hat, dripping with the rain, to his breast. “May I at least tell my household, and allay their anxiety?”