"
The deacon carried the incense, bowed to her, and smiled. His hair
was glaringly red, and his face jovial, like Samoylov's. From the
top of the dome broad sunbeams descended to the ground. In both
choirs the boys sang softly:
"Christ has arisen from the dead."
"Arrest them!" the priest suddenly cried, standing up in the middle
of the church. His vestments vanished from his body, and a gray,
stern mustache appeared on his face. All the people started to run,
and the deacon, flinging the censer aside, rushed forward, seizing
his head in his hands like the Little Russian. The mother dropped
the infant on the ground at the feet of the people. They ran to the
side of her, timidly regarding the naked little body. She fell on
her knees and shouted to them: "Don't abandon the child! Take it
with you!"
"Christ has arisen from the dead," the Little Russian sang, holding
his hands behind his back, and smiling. He bent down, took the
child, and put it on the wagon loaded with timber, at the side of
which Nikolay was walking slowly, shaking with laughter. He said:
"They have given me hard work."
The street was muddy, the people thrust their faces from the windows
of the houses, and whistled, shouted, waved their hands.
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