From the distance came a dull sound, like a deep groan, and immediately after it the signal whistle of the steamer drawled out as in a frightened manner over Foma's and his guest's heads.
From the distance came a more distant reply, and the whistle overhead again gave out abrupt, timorous sounds.

Foma opened the window.

Through the fog, not far from their steamer, something was moving along with deep noise; specks of fantastic lights floated by, the fog was agitated and again sank into dead immobility.
"How terrible!" exclaimed Foma, shutting the window.
"What is there to be afraid of ?" asked the pilgrim.

"You see! It is neither day nor night, neither darkness nor light! We can see nothing, we are sailing we know not whither, we are straying on the river." "Have inward fire within you, have light within your soul, and you shall see everything," said the pilgrim, sternly and instructively.
Foma was displeased with these cold words and looked at the pilgrim askance.

The latter sat with drooping head, motionless, as though petrified in thought and prayer.