Then Nikoloff drew from his breast a bronze cross on a little chain, hung it on the wall and, crossing himself many times, knelt, touched the floor with his forehead, rose and repeated the same movements again and again, making each quicker than the last. Through it all he muttered in supplication only one sentence:
"Christ be merciful unto us!"
The convicts stood by like two immovable statues, with their eyes riveted upon him and their lips moving inaudibly. Nikoloff's face grew even paler, his mouth was open, he breathed with a whistling sound and his eyes were larger than ever. Finally he sprang to his feet, ran to the middle of the room and, continually repeating these same words, began making circles, ever smaller and smaller, until he was whirling in one spot with such speed that I saw two faces and four hands in the glimmering light. But he still continued so to increase his speed that he became but a shadow, almost transparent, and finally melted away in the darkness that his own twirling had produced by extinguishing the candle. In a second I heard the thud of a falling body and ordered the convicts to relight the lamp, while I busied myself about Nikoloff, who lay unconscious on the floor.
His eyes were open and staring, foam encircled his mouth, his breast heaved with a rattling sound and he was still repeating, in a hoarse and almost inaudible voice:
"Christ be merciful unto us!"
After some minutes Nikoloff was once more seated on the bench, able, though breathing heavily, to go on with his exhortation.
"In such manner ought one to pray, only thus! Then you will hear your prayers fall at the feet of the Creator, like the low rustling of sweet-scented flowers. … We
