Page 280 - the-brothers-karamazov

tit.’
‘How do you know him from an ordinary tit?’
‘He speaks.’
‘How does he speak, in what language?’
‘Human language.’
‘And what does he tell you?’
‘Why, to-day he told me that a fool would visit me and
would ask me unseemly questions. You want to know too
much, monk.’
‘Terrible are your words, most holy and blessed Father,’
the monk shook his head. But there was a doubtful look in
his frightened little eyes.
‘Do you see this tree?’ asked Father Ferapont, after a
pause.
‘I do, blessed Father.’
‘You think it’s an elm, but for me it has another shape.’
‘What sort of shape?’ inquired the monk, after a pause of
vain expectation.
‘It happens at night. You see those two branches? In the
night it is Christ holding out His arms to me and seeking
me with those arms, I see it clearly and tremble. It’s terrible,
terrible!’
‘What is there terrible if it’s Christ Himself?’
‘Why, He’ll snatch me up and carry me away.’
‘Alive?’
‘In the spirit and glory of Elijah, haven’t you heard? He
will take me in His arms and bear me away.’
Though the monk returned to the cell he was sharing
with one of the brothers, in considerable perplexity of mind,