Hm, yes. That’s good.
And when they carry the ikon, it sparkles all over with the precious stones like fire. Only His face remains gloomy. All the gems don’t give him any pleasure. He is sad and gloomy like the people’s woe.
Hm, yes. Is that so?
Just think how many tears have fallen upon Him, how many sighs and groans He has heard! That alone is enough to make the ikon holy for all who love and sympathize with the people and understand their soul. Why, they have nobody except Christ, all those unfortunate, miserable people. When I was a little girl, I was always waiting for a miracle—
It would be interesting.
But now I understand that He Himself is waiting for a miracle from the people. He is waiting for the people to stop fighting, hating, and destroying each other.
Well, what of it?
LIPA (fixing her gaze upon him)
Nothing. To-morrow you’ll see for yourself when they carry Him in the procession. You’ll see what effect the mere consciousness that He is there with them has upon them, how it transforms them, what it does to them. The whole year round they live a dog’s life, in filth, quarrelling with each other, suffering. On that day all the ugliness seems to vanish. It is an awful and a joyous day when suddenly you cast away from yourself all that is superfluous and when you feel so clearly your nearness to all the unfortunates that are and ever were, and your nearness to God.
What time is it?
The clock has just struck a quarter past eleven, if I am not mistaken.
It’s still early.
Early for what?
Nothing. It’s still early, that’s all.
What do you mean?
What I mean.
Why did you say it’s still early?
Because it’s only a little after eleven; but when it’s twelve—
SAVVA (jumping up and going to her quickly; fixing her with his stare, he speaks slowly, pronouncing every word separately and distinctly) So? Is that it? When it’s twelve—(He turns to Speransky without removing his eyes from Lipa) Listen, you go home.