And then he disappears, sinking somewhere in the depth, beneath the feet of the people.

There, wriggling like a snake, now jumping on people's shoulders, now gliding between their feet, his godfather is working with his lean, but supple and sinewy body.

Here Lubov is crying and struggling, following her father, with abrupt but faint movements, now remaining behind him, now nearing him again.

Striding softly with a kind smile on her face, stepping aside from everybody, and making way for everyone, Aunt Anfisa is slowly moving along.

Her image quivers in the darkness before Foma, like the modest flame of a wax candle.