knew how important it is to me and how desperate I am!”
“No, you’d better wait till morning,” the priest repeated.
“Till morning? Mercy! that’s impossible!”
And in his despair he was on the point of attacking the sleeping man again, but stopped short at once, realizing the uselessness of his efforts.
The priest said nothing, the sleepy forester looked gloomy.
“What terrible tragedies real life contrives for people,” said Mitya, in complete despair. The perspiration was streaming down his face. The priest seized the moment to put before him, very reasonably, that, even if he succeeded in wakening the man, he would still be drunk and incapable of conversation.
“And your business is important,” he said, “so you’d certainly better put it off till morning.”
With a gesture of despair Mitya agreed.
“Father, I will stay here with a light,