Those were sedate, neatly and warmly clad peasants.

One of them lay on a bench, face down; another sat at his feet, still another stood, leaning his back against a barrel, while two others seated themselves flat on the deck.

Their faces, pensive and attentive, were turned toward a round-shouldered man in a short cassock, turned yellow, and a torn fur cap.

That man sat on some boxes with his back bent, and staring at his feet, spoke in a low, confident voice: "There will come an end to the long forbearance of the Lord, and then His wrath will burst forth upon men.

We are like worms before Him, and how are we then to ward off His wrath, with what wailing shall we appeal to His mercy ?" Oppressed by his gloominess, Foma had come down on the deck from his cabin, and, for some time, had been standing in the shadow of some wares covered with tarpaulin, and listened to the admonitive and gentle voice of the preacher.