I reveal it to you, as you are a stranger."
"Your words are terrible!
But, holy and blessed father," said the monk, growing bolder and bolder, "is it true, as they noise abroad even to distant lands about you, that you are in continual communication with the Holy Ghost?"
"He does fly down at times."
"How does he fly down?
In what form?"
"As a bird."
"The Holy Ghost in the form of a dove?"
"There's the Holy Ghost and there's the Holy Spirit.
The Holy Spirit can appear as other birds- sometimes as a swallow, sometimes a goldfinch and sometimes as a blue-tit."
"How do you know him from an ordinary tit?"
"He speaks."
"How does he speak, in what language?"
"Human language."
"And what does he tell you?"
"Why, to-day he told me that a fool would visit me and would ask me unseemly questions.
You want to know too much, monk."
"Terrible are your words, most holy and blessed Father," the monk shook his head.
But there was a doubtful look in his frightened little eyes.
"Do you see this tree?" asked Father Ferapont, after a pause.
"I do, blessed Father."
"You think it's an elm, but for me it has another shape."
"What sort of shape?" inquired the monk, after a pause of vain expectation.
"It happens at night.
You see those two branches?
In the night it is Christ holding out His arms to me and seeking me with those arms, I see it clearly and tremble.
It's terrible, terrible!"
"What is there terrible if it's Christ Himself?"
"Why, He'll snatch me up and carry me away."
"Alive?"
"In the spirit and glory of Elijah, haven't you heard? He will take me in His arms and bear me away."
Though the monk returned to the cell he was sharing with one of the brothers, in considerable perplexity of mind, he still cherished at heart a greater reverence for Father Ferapont than for Father Zossima.
He was strongly in favour of fasting, and it was not strange that one who kept so rigid a fast as Father Ferapont should "see marvels."
His words seemed certainly queer, but God only could tell what was hidden in those words, and were not worse words and acts commonly seen in those who have sacrificed their intellects for the glory of God?
The pinching of the devil's tail he was ready and eager to believe, and not only in the figurative sense.
Besides he had, before visiting the monastery, a strong prejudice against the institution of "elders," which he only knew of by hearsay and believed to be a pernicious innovation.
Before he had been long at the monastery, he had detected the secret murmurings of some shallow brothers who disliked the institution.
He was, besides, a meddlesome, inquisitive man, who poked his nose into everything.
This was why the news of the fresh "miracle" performed by Father Zossima reduced him to extreme perplexity.
Alyosha remembered afterwards how their inquisitive guest from Obdorsk had been continually flitting to and fro from one group to another, listening and asking questions among the monks that were crowding within and without the elder's cell.
But he did not pay much attention to him at the time, and only recollected it afterwards. He had no thought to spare for it indeed, for when Father Zossima, feeling tired again, had gone back to bed, he thought of Alyosha as he was closing his eyes, and sent for him.
Alyosha ran at once.
There was no one else in the cell but Father Paissy, Father Iosif, and the novice Porfiry.
The elder, opening his weary eyes and looking intently at Alyosha, asked him suddenly:
"Are your people expecting you, my son?"
Alyosha hesitated.
"Haven't they need of you?
Didn't you promise someone yesterday to see them to-day?"
"I did promise- to my father- my brothers- others too."
"You see, you must go.