scared eyes, looked at his father and thought about only one thing: would his father obhge him to repeat the explanation that he had given him, as he had done at other times? This fear kept him from understanding anything. Fortunately his father passed on to the lesson in Sacred History. Serozha narrated the facts themselves very well; but when he was required to answer the questions as to what the fact signified he did not know it at all, though he had already been punished for this same lesson. The place where he could not recite and hesitated, and where he had whittled the table and rocked the chair, was the critical moment when he had to repeat the list of antediluvian patriarchs. Not one could he remember, not even Enoch, who was snatched up to heaven alive. On other occasions he could remember his name, but now he had entirely forgotten it, for the very reason that Enoch was his favorite character in all Biblical history, and he connected with the translation of this patriarch a long string of ideas which completely absorbed him, while he was staring at his father's watch-chain and a loose button on his waist-coat.
Serozha absolutely disbelieved in death, though they had told him about it many times. He could not believe that those whom he loved could die, and especially incredible was the thought of his own death. It all seemed perfectly impossible and incomprehensible. But he had been told that all must die; he had asked people in whom he had confidence, and they had assured him that it was so. The nurse herself, though unwillingly, said the same thing. But Enoch did not die, and perhaps others might not have to die.
"Why should not others deserve justice before God, and so be snatched up to heaven alive?" thought Serozha. "The wicked—those whom he disliked—might have to die, but the good might be like Enoch."
"Well! how about these patriarchs?"
"Enoch .... Enos...."
"You have already mentioned him. This is bad, Serozha, very bad. If you do not endeavor to learn the
