In vain he attempted to fall asleep, and the
chamber became more and more crowded with dark images. Then he
quietly roused his aunt.
"Auntie! Auntie!"
"What? Christ be with you."
"I'll come to you," whispered Foma.
"Why? Sleep, darling, sleep."
"I am afraid," confessed the boy.
"You better say to yourself, 'And the Lord will rise again,' then
you won't be afraid."
Foma lies with his eyes open and says the prayer. The silence of
the night pictures itself before him in the form of an endless
expanse of perfectly calm, dark water, which has overflowed
everything and congealed; there is not a ripple on it, not a
shadow of a motion, and neither is there anything within it,
although it is bottomlessly deep. It is very terrible for one to
look down from the dark at this dead water. But now the sound of
the night watchman's mallet is heard, and the boy sees that the
surface of the water is beginning to tremble, and, covering the
surface with ripples, light little balls are dancing upon it. The
sound of the bell on the steeple, with one mighty swing, brings
all the water in agitation and it is slightly trembling from that
sound; a big spot of light is also trembling, spreading light
upon the water, radiating from its centre into the dark distance,
there growing paler and dying out.
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