Of our dear fatherland? - I ask in vain!

Not on his lofty brow, nor in his looks

May one peruse his secret thoughts; always

The same aspect; lowly at once, and lofty -

Like some state Minister grown grey in office,

Calmly alike he contemplates the just

And guilty, with indifference he hears

Evil and good, and knows not wrath nor pity.

PIMEN. Wakest thou, brother?

GREGORY. Honoured father, give me

Thy blessing.

PIMEN. May God bless thee on this day,

Tomorrow, and for ever.

GREGORY. All night long

Thou hast been writing and abstained from sleep,

While demon visions have disturbed my peace,

The fiend molested me. I dreamed I scaled

By winding stairs a turret, from whose height

Moscow appeared an anthill, where the people

Seethed in the squares below and pointed at me

With laughter. Shame and terror came upon me -

And falling headlong, I awoke. Three times

I dreamed the selfsame dream. Is it not strange?

PIMEN. 'Tis the young blood at play; humble thyself

By prayer and fasting, and thy slumber's visions

Will all be filled with lightness. Hitherto

If I, unwillingly by drowsiness

Weakened, make not at night long orisons,

My old-man's sleep is neither calm nor sinless;

Now riotous feasts appear, now camps of war,

Scuffles of battle, fatuous diversions

Of youthful years.

GREGORY. How joyfully didst thou

Live out thy youth! The fortress of Kazan