IT was three o'clock Easter morning. Katrinka, who had been taught to cook by her mother, had made a huge cake the day before and had covered it with icing. She had sold some eggs and with the money had bought some red and yellow paper flowers. With these she had adorned the top of the cake. Although it would not be dawn for several hours she and Peter were on their way to church with the cake, which Katrinka carried on a great platter. In the moonlight she could see that the village street was thronged with women, who like herself, were carrying flower-trimmed cakes, tower-shaped cheeses and loaves of bread to church in order that the priest might bless the first food eaten after the Lenten fast. One woman had a cake that was built up in terraces. It was surmounted with a pink candle and was so heavy that the woman staggered beneath its weight. As Katrinka overtook the woman and saw the pink candle, she sighed.
Her mother had always trimmed the Easter cake and cheeses with little candles, but after Katrinka had bought sugar and flour and raisins and paper flowers for her cake the egg money had given out, so for the first time the Easter cake was without candles.
All of the day before Katrinka had been busy preparing for the great feast. She had swept and cleaned the house and had set a bowl of yellow daisies in the middle of the kitchen table. Before going to bed she had given Peter a thorough steaming, having first built up a very hot fire in the stove, upon which she afterwards dashed a good sized basin of water. The water steamed and sizzled on the hot surface, filling the kitchen with warm vapor. When the steam was so thick that even the walls were damp, Katrinka took Peter, who was already undressed and prancing about the room, and laid him on the shelf in front of the oven. Then she rubbed him with a rough towel of homespun until he glowed. Finally, she filled the trough in the kitchen with cold water and rolled him in it, afterwards beating him lightly with birch branches until he was as red as her own petticoat.
This morning he was dressed in a little suit of yellow linen that his mother had made for him the summer before. It was a trifle tight and uncomfortable, but Katrinka thought it looked very fine indeed as he ran back and forth in the dim light, swinging a small basket of colored eggs.
By the time they reached the church Katrinka's arms were aching and she was very glad to set her big cake down on one side of the aisle, placing Peter's basket of eggs beside it. This done she took from a capacious pocket in her skirt a little packet of tea, some sugar and two small rolls. These she set on the floor beside Peter's basket. Then she stood up and looked around. The entire church was filled with food. There were cakes and fruit and meal and eggs and butter. In the midst of the good things the white-haired priest moved about with a bowl of holy water.
As he approached her cakes, Katrinka threw out her arms, crying, "Holy Father, bestow your blessing on my sweet loaf. Sprinkle it with one drop of the holy water that it may be blessed."
The priest dipped his hands into the water and then lifted them, shaking glistening drops in all directions. Katrinka kept her eyes on her food and seeing that none of the water had fallen on the rolls, cried out again, beseeching the priest to return and sprinkle the bread. At last when she was sure that all of her food had been blessed by contact with the holy water, she and Peter gathered it up and started towards home. They were very hungry for they had fasted for seven weeks, and according to the custom of the Greek church, had eaten almost nothing during the seven days before Easter. 10
Although the sun was not yet up when they entered the house, Katrinka made tea from the package that had been blessed and cut two large slices of cake. Then, having partly satisfied their hunger, she and Peter lay down on the shelf that ran along the wall of the sitting-room and were presently fast asleep.
It was long after sunrise when they again awakened. Fearful that they would be late for the morning service Katrinka hurriedly brushed Peter's black hair and sent him outdoors to play while she made her toilet. This finished, she called her brother.
"How do I look, Peter?" she asked, standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips and her head tilted to one side, eager for the small man's praise. She had discovered a few weeks before what seemed to her a very wonderful head-dress. It had belonged to her mother when she was a girl and had lived in the North with her parents. It was a red turban with an embroidered border. Katrinka had saved it for the Easter festival. Now with the head-piece rearing itself boldly above her brow she felt suddenly timid and sought Peter's approval before starting for church. The high turban was so different from the flat kerchiefs worn by the villagers that she was half afraid to appear in their midst, wearing it.
Peter looked at it, then began to shout. "You are a soldier! You are a soldier!" he cried, leaping up and down and swinging a stick. "Take your sword and come with me to fight the Czar's Cossacks."
"Ssh!" said Katrinka, taking off the turban. "Some one will hear you and then you will be carried away to prison."
"I am not afraid," cried Peter, flashing back and forth and slashing about with his stick. "When I am a man I shall go to war and when the Cossacks have all run away I will pull the Czar off his throne and make him give us back our father and mother."
"Peter," remonstrated Katrinka, looking about nervously, "the Czar will give us back our father and mother when he knows how good they were and how loyal. Come!" She tied her plain white kerchief over her head, smoothed down the full plaits of her bright red skirt that stood out like a hoop around her knees, fastened a white daisy in her bodice, and with a regretful backward glance at the scarlet head-dress which she had abandoned, took Peter's hand and set off towards the church. They had not gone far when a family that lived in one of the neighboring izbas saw them, and came running pell-mell to meet them. Katrinka, who had been walking sedately, dropped Peter's hand and with a little cry skimmed over the grass towards her neighbors. Then began a great smacking of cheeks, for each member in the large family kissed both Katrinka and Peter, and Katrinka and Peter kissed each one of them in return, at the same time exchanging Easter eggs with them. The exchanging of eggs and kisses completed, they all proceeded decorously on their way. But every now and then they came across other villagers, all of whom exchanged embraces with Katrinka, Peter and their companions. At the church everybody seemed to be embracing and kissing everybody else.
Peter and Katrinka laughingly joined in the festival, running about and eagerly smacking grown-ups and children alike.
The appearance of a carriage drawn by three black horses interrupted the merrymaking. The horses drew up with a clatter in front of the church and a strange man with fair hair and hollow cheeks, who had been half reclining in the rattle-trap vehicle, stepped out, and leaning on a staff that he carried, stood staring, half wistfully, at the group of merry villagers in front of the church. Presently Ivan Drovski strode up to the stranger and kissed him heartily on the cheek.
"Happy Easter, friend," he said, and then turned to the villagers. "Salute the stranger," he called out in his huge, rumbling voice. The throngs crowded around the man, but only a few ventured to place the Easter kiss on his cheek
The stranger smiled sadly at the apparent reluctance of the villagers to give him the usual Easter greeting. Then he looked up at the church, but did not cross himself. Instead, removed his fur turban and held up his hand.
The crowd drew back. There was something terrifying about this stranger with the fair hair, cadaverous eyes and unsmiling lips. Katrinka gathered Peter to her side and muttered prayers under her breath. But in spite of herself, she was fascinated by the new arrival and could not take her eyes off him. He threw back his head. His throat was full and white. Katrinka saw that in spite of his gauntness he was not an old man. There was something young and full of fire in his attitude. He looked around, his eyes resting for a moment on the face of each one of the silent crowd. Then he spoke.
"I am looking for the children of Peter Petrovski," he said, and his voice sounded like a deep bell. Katrinka cowered behind Mother Drovski.
For some seconds there was silence. Then Ivan Drovski spoke.
"Peter Petrovski's children are here. Have you news for them?"
The stranger thrust his hand under his belted coat and drew out a paper. "Show me the children," he said, his eyes again sweeping over the crowd.
Mother Drovski pushed Katrinka forward and the man saw the child fully for the first time. He smiled. The smile lighted up his face and Katrinka, no longer afraid, went to him, and as he stooped to look into her eyes, she kissed him on the cheek. He smiled again and laid his hand on her head.
"I bring news from your father and mother, little one," he said, speaking so low that even Ivan Drovski, who stood nearby, could not hear his words. "They came to Siberia over the new railroad. They were prisoners, but not in chains. They are well and asked me to tell you to be of good cheer. They are with you always in the spirit. Here is a letter your father gave to me."
He placed a folded paper in Katrinka's hands. She unfolded it, but the tears had filled her eyes and she was unable to distinguish the words that were written on it. The man leaned down and pointing at the lines with his finger, read:–
BELOVED KATRINKA:
Take the tin box in the closet and go to Stefan Norvitch in St. Petersburg. Tell him that you are the daughter of Peter Petrovski. Ask him to open the box and do with its contents what he will, first removing enough to educate little Peter, and to bring you, my beloved Katrinka, to young womanhood. Keep your heart filled with courage and join your mother and father in praying that we may soon be reunited.
Your mother sends a heart full of love and many kisses to her children. Be a brave girl and do not forget
Your loving father,
PETER PETROVSKI.
When the man had finished reading he gave the paper to Katrinka, who placed it in the bosom of her dress.
As the man turned to reënter the carriage, Katrinka reached forward and took his hand, striving to detain him. Gently he withdrew his fingers from her clasp.
"I must go about my business, little one. If God wills I will return in good time and go with you and your brother to find Stefan Norvitch in St. Petersburg."
He climbed into the carriage and, as the three horses galloped away, looked back, smiled, and waved his hand. Katrinka never forgot the expression on his face as the carriage swept down the road, the great bell that swung in the bow over the dashing middle horse, pealing merrily.
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