"Mama, what's this?"

"See, it's Christ, and behind Him are the Saints: the God-pleaser Nikolai [St. Nicholas], the venerable Sergii [of Radonezh], and others..."

"And who are these people?"

"Those are all people, in general: the poor and the rich, the young and the old, all of them come to Christ with their needs and ask Him to help them."

"And – does He help them?"

"He does. He said: Come unto Me all ye who labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest."

"What does that mean, 'I will give you rest'?"

"That means, 'I will console you.'"

"But, Mama, you often cry when we don't have enough money, when Papa is angry, when Misha [a diminutive form of Mikhail (Michael)] brings bad marks home from school; why don't you go to Christ? After all, He will console you..."

"I do go to Him, my dear little boy, and we, all of us, have recourse to Christ, but we're very sinful and unworthy..."

"Mama, what's this, that's written here: 'Holy Rus' '?"

But Mama had been called away for some reason; she had not had a chance to reply.

It is night. Vitya is lying in his little bed. Not far from him, Nanny is making measured prostrations and whispering prayers. The lampadka [a little votive-lamp (the diminutive form of lampada)] is burning dimly, sputtering, and flaring-up, occasionally. It is burning down. Vitya keeps track of it with his eyes: at any moment, now – any moment – it will go out, and everything will go dark, unless Nanny goes up to it and fixes it. But Nanny, it would appear, has forgotten completely about the lampada – she has become fully absorbed in prayer.

"And from a harsh death, deliver me," she whispers, falling down before the ikons. Nanny prays in this fashion every day. Vitya had already asked Mama about this, and she had told him that "a harsh death" means a death without the opportunity to repent.

But then Vitya remembers: "Holy Rus' – what is that? Why is it that Rus' is holy, but that he has heard nothing whatsoever of a Holy France, or Germany. It must mean that Rus' is more holy than any other nation. Is it that we Russians are holy – or is it the Russian Land?" he asks himself, and thinks: "No, we're not holy. Why, only yesterday, Misha and Sonya got into a scrape over a book, and he really gave her a licking.

And now, Nadezhda the cook has come running to Mama, crying – her husband has ordered her to leave her place, dragging her over to his own, but she has never known anything from him but thrashing. And are those people holy who don't want the Tsar' and were even preparing to murder him? Or those who erected barricades in Moscow and threw bombs? Or are they holy, who robbed the bank – Papa had related that incident.... Or, those who rob, burn and kill people? Mama reads about them every day in the newspaper. So, why – Holy Rus'? No, Rus' is sinful! Rus' is unfortunate and vex’d, not holy!"

The lampada flared up helplessly and began to go out. It's going to be completely dark! Vitya is frightened; he wants to tell Nanny to fix the lampadka, but is afraid to move.

He continues his thought:

"No, Rus' was holy – once upon a time, when holy people dwelt in her; now, there are no more Saints, and people are becoming worse and worse. Soon, it will be dark... soon it will be completely dark, and it will be frightening... All the good people will leave, while the evil ones will stay and consume one another..."

Vitya feels frightened. He wants to cry out, but is unable to do so.

Suddenly, the lampadka {...flared up in a blaze of light...} <there is a hiatus in the Russian text at this point; curly-bracketed text has been added by the translator in order to bridge the textual gap – trans.> which illumined the entire kiot [ikon-case]. The ikons cast their affable and soothing gaze at Vitya.

And he sees the gentle visage of the venerable Serafim [of Sarov], the newly-manifested wonder-worker; and near the ikon, a bit farther away, is the portrait of Fr. Ioann of Kronstadt. He casts a look of reproach at Vitya, as if to say: "Are there, then, no more Saints left?"

And Vitya recalls how he had been at Troitsa [the Holy Trinity-St. Sergii's Lavra]; how he had venerated the relics of the venerable Sergii, the wonder-worker; and how, later, they had visited the hiero-monk starets [elder] Fr. Varnava, to see whom throngs of people would stream, whose life, they say, was holy. And that is where Mama now goes for advice and blessing... and returns comforted, and quietly tells Nanny that "...'batiushka' [the venerable father] has blessed such-and-such a thing to be done... Batiushka said that everything would be all right, only it's necessary to pray..."

Who is this "batiushka"? And Vitya, too, had been taken to get his blessing, and batiushka had signed him with a broad cross, glancing lovingly at him. And he had said, to Mama: "Don't despair. God can provide immediate help. Just be patient..." This is a man of holy life, Mama had said. Which means that there are Saints, even now.

The lampadka burned brightly. The visages of the Saints gaze at Vitya and seemed to say: "And are we not alive? We live with you. We see your griefs and sorrows, your worries and cares. We hear your prayers, and carry them up to God."

And before his mind's-eye, the little boy sees the magnificent Kremlin, with its cathedrals, relics and tombs of Saints; with its wonder-working ikons and the rich, appealing toll of its bells. He recalls the Svetlaya zautrenya [Bright Mattins] at Pascha, when the very-most sombre and evil of men become more tender and more tranquil; when everyone becomes more composed and more pure of heart; when the same joy enwraps both the good and the evil; and when, for an instant, at least, the hand of the murderer is stayed, and hell itself trembles and falls mute...

And Vitya feels, in his spirit, that all this is peculiar to Russia, alone; that all this dwells undistorted only in her; and it is for this reason that she is – "Holy Rus'"!