The Brothers Karamazov
still looked a vigorous old man. He was tall, held himself
erect, and had a thin, but fresh and healthy face. There was
no doubt he still had considerable strength. He was of ath-
letic build. In spite of his great age he was not even quite
grey, and still had very thick hair and a full beard, both of
which had once been black. His eyes were grey, large and
luminous, but strikingly prominent. He spoke with a broad
accent. He was dressed in a peasant’s long reddish coat of
coarse convict cloth (as it used to be called) and had a stout
rope round his waist. His throat and chest were bare. Be-
neath his coat, his shirt of the coarsest linen showed almost
black with dirt, not having been changed for months. They
said that he wore irons weighing thirty pounds under his
coat. His stockingless feet were thrust in old slippers almost
dropping to pieces.
‘From the little Obdorsk monastery, from St. Sylvester,’
the monk answered humbly, whilst his keen and inquisitive,
but rather frightened little eyes kept watch on the hermit.
‘I have been at your Sylvester’s. I used to stay there. Is
Sylvester well?’
The monk hesitated.
‘You are a senseless lot! How do you keep the fasts?’
‘Our dietary is according to the ancient conventual
rules. During Lent there are no meals provided for Mon-
day, Wednesday, and Friday. For Tuesday and Thursday we
have white bread, stewed fruit with honey, wild berries, or
salt cabbage and whole meal stirabout. On Saturday white
cabbage soup, noodles with peas, kasha, all with hemp oil.
On weekdays we have dried fish and kasha with the cab-