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the water into wine that the gladness of the guests may not
be cut short. He is expecting new guests, He is calling new
ones unceasingly for ever and ever.... There they are bring-
ing new wine. Do you see they are bringing the vessels..’
Something glowed in Alyosha’s heart, something filled
it till it ached, tears of rapture rose from his soul.... He
stretched out his hands, uttered a cry and waked up.
Again the coffin, the open window, and the soft, solemn,
distinct reading of the Gospel. But Alyosha did not listen
to the reading. It was strange, he had fallen asleep on his
knees, but now he was on his feet, and suddenly, as though
thrown forward, with three firm rapid steps he went right
up to the coffin. His shoulder brushed against Father Paissy
without his noticing it. Father Paissy raised his eyes for an
instant from his book, but looked away again at once, seeing
that something strange was happening to the boy. Alyosha
gazed for half a minute at the coffin, at the covered, mo-
tionless dead man that lay in the coffin, with the ikon on
his breast and the peaked cap with the octangular cross on
his head. He had only just been hearing his voice, and that
voice was still ringing in his ears. He was listening, still ex-
pecting other words, but suddenly he turned sharply and
went out of the cell.
He did not stop on the steps either, but went quick-
ly down; his soul, overflowing with rapture, yearned for
freedom, space, openness. The vault of heaven, full of soft,
shining stars, stretched vast and fathomless above him.
The Milky Way ran in two pale streams from the zenith to
the horizon. The fresh, motionless, still night enfolded the