When a parish priest dies, what is to become of his wife and daughters ?" Not perceiving clearly the exact bearing of these last remarks, I ventured to suggest that priests ought to economise in view of future contingencies.
"It is easy to speak," replied Batushka: "'A story is soon told,' as the old proverb has it, 'but a thing is not soon done.' How are we to economise?
Even without saving we have the greatest difficulty to make the two ends meet." "Then the widow and daughters might work and gain a livelihood." "What, pray, could they work at ?" asked Batushka, and paused for a reply.

Seeing that I had none to offer him, he continued, "Even the house and land belong not to them, but to the new priest." "If that position occurred in a novel," I said, "I could foretell what would happen.

The author would make the new priest fall in love with and marry one of the daughters, and then the whole family, including the mother-in-law, would live happily ever afterwards." "That is exactly how the Bishop arranges the matter.

What the novelist does with the puppets of his imagination, the Bishop does with real beings of flesh and blood.

As a rational being he cannot leave things to chance.