"Pray! Pray! It was not for nothing that she sent for you. My dove was troubled about her salvation, and wished to expel all evil influences by means of prayer."
"I swear, gracious sir, it is beyond my power."
"Pray! Pray!" continued the colonel in the same persuasive tone. "There is only one night more; you are doing a Christian work, and I will reward you richly."
"However great your rewards may be, I will not read the prayers any more, sir," said Thomas in a tone of decision.
"Listen, philosopher!" said the colonel with a menacing air. "I will not allow any objections. In your seminary you may act as you like, but here it won't do. If I have you knouted, it will be somewhat different to the rector's canings. Do you know what a strong 'kantchuk'[1] is?"
"Of course I do," said the philosopher in a low voice; "a number of them together are insupportable."
"Yes, I think so too. But you don't know yet how hot my fellows can make it," replied the colonel threateningly. He sprang up, and his face assumed a fierce, despotic expression, betraying the savagery of his nature, which had been only temporarily modified by grief.
- ↑ Small scourge.
