“ Oui, mes amis , and I only wonder that you⁠ ⁠… take so much trouble. I shall most likely get up tomorrow, and we will⁠ ⁠… set off.⁠ ⁠… Toute cette cérémonie ⁠ ⁠… for which, of course, I feel every proper respect⁠ ⁠… was⁠ ⁠…”

“I beg you, father, to remain with the invalid,” said Varvara Petrovna hurriedly, stopping the priest, who had already taken off his vestments. “As soon as tea has been handed, I beg you to begin to speak of religion, to support his faith.”

The priest spoke; everyone was standing or sitting round the sickbed.

“In our sinful days,” the priest began smoothly, with a cup of tea in his hand, “faith in the Most High is the sole refuge of the race of man in all the trials and tribulations of life, as well as its hope for that eternal bliss promised to the righteous.”