Indeed, it had once happened in Father Zosima’s lifetime. One of the monks began seeing unclean spirits, at first in his dreams and then also in reality. And when, in great fear, he divulged this to the elder, the latter advised him to pray without ceasing and fast zealously. But when that did not help either, he advised him, without abandoning his fasting and prayer, to take a certain medicine. Many found this a temptation and spoke of it among themselves, shaking their heads—Father Ferapont most of all, whom some slanderers had hastened to inform at once of the “extraordinary” instructions the elder had given in this particular case.
“Get thee hence, father!” Father Paissy spoke commandingly. “It is not for men to judge, but for God. Perhaps we see here such a sign’ as neither I, nor you, nor any man is capable of understanding. Get thee hence, father, and do not trouble the flock!” he repeated insistently. “He did not keep the fasts according to his monastic rank, therefore this sign has come. That’s plain enough, it’s a sin to conceal it!” The fanatic, maddened by his zeal, got himself going and would not be still. “He loved candies, the ladies used to bring him candies in their pockets, he was a tea sipper, a glutton, filling his stomach with sweets and his mind with arrogant thoughts ... That is why he suffers this shame ...”
“Frivolous are your words, father!” Father Paissy also raised his voice. “I marvel at your fasting and ascetic life, but frivolous are your words, as if spoken by some worldly youth, callow and inconstant of mind. Therefore get thee hence, father, I command you,” Father Paissy thundered in conclusion.
“I will get hence,” said Father Ferapont, as if somewhat taken aback, but not abandoning his spite. “You learned ones! In great wisdom you exalt yourselves above my nothingness. I came here illiterate, and here forgot what I did know, the Lord himself has protected me, his little one, from your wisdom...”
Father Paissy stood over him and waited firmly. Father Ferapont was silent for a short time; then, suddenly rueful, he put his right hand to his cheek and spoke in a singsong, looking at the coffin of the deceased elder:
“Tomorrow they will sing ‘My Helper and Defender’ over him—a glorious canon—and over me when I croak just What Earthly Joy’—a little song,” he said tearfully and piteously.[228] “You are proud and puffed up! Empty is this place!” he suddenly yelled like a madman, and, waving his hand, turned quickly, and quickly went down the steps from the porch. The crowd awaiting him below hesitated: some followed him at once, but others lingered, for the cell was still open and Father Paissy, who had come out to the porch after Father Ferapont, was standing and watching. But the raging old man was not finished yet: going about twenty steps off, he suddenly turned towards the setting sun, raised both arms, and, as if he had been cut down, collapsed on the ground with a great cry:
“My Lord has conquered! Christ has conquered with the setting sun!” he cried out frenziedly, lifting up his hands to the sun, and, falling face down on the ground, he sobbed loudly like a little child, shaking all over with tears and spreading his arms on the ground. Now everyone rushed to him, there were exclamations, responsive sobs ... Some kind of frenzy seized them all.
“It is he who is holy! It is he who is righteous!”voices exclaimed, quite fearlessly now. “It is he who should be made an elder,” others added spitefully.
