IV + 

The silent group of Tatars suddenly rose from their places in the stern and with even step moved to the paddle box at the edge of the upper deck. They took off their coats and spread them on the deck. Then they took off their slippers and reverently stepped upon their coats. The glow of the sunset fell upon the rough faces of the Tatars. Their thickset figures were sharply outlined against the light and cooling heavens. + 

“They’re praying,” one man whispered and several left the quarreling group and walked to the railing. + 

Others followed. The argument quieted down. + 

The Tatars stood with their eyes closed, their brows were raised and their thoughts were apparently lifted up to that place where the last rays of daylight were fading on the heights. At times they unlocked their arms which were crossed on their breasts and placed them on their knees, and then they bowed their heads with their sheepskin caps, low, so low. They arose again and stretched their hands with the fingers extended toward the light. + 

The lips of the Muslims were whispering the words of an unknown and unintelligible prayer.⁠ ⁠… + 

“Look there,” said one peasant, and he stopped hesitatingly, without expressing his thought. + 

“They are fulfilling the rites of their religion,” asserted another. + 

“Yes, they’re praying too.⁠ ⁠…” + 

The Tatars suddenly knelt, touched their foreheads to the deck, and at once rose again. The three young men took their coats and slippers and went back to their former seats on the stern. The old man was left alone. He sat with his feet crossed under him. His lips moved and over his beautiful face with its gray beard passed a strange and touching expression of deep sorrow softened by reverence before the will of the Most High. His hands quickly fingered his beads. + 

“See.⁠ ⁠… He has beads too.” + 

“A zealous man.⁠ ⁠…” + 

“Yes, it’s for his son.⁠ ⁠… He died in Astrakhan,” explained the merchant who had gone down the river with the Tatars. + 

“Oh, oh, oh!” sighed one of them philosophically. “Every man wishes to be saved. No one wishes to perish, whoever he is, even if he’s a Tatar.⁠ ⁠…” + 

It was too dark to tell who was speaking. The group melted together but the isolated figure of the old man still at his devotions could be seen at the edge of the paddle box above the water. He was silently swaying backwards and forwards. + 

“Papa!” suddenly came a soft voice. + 

It was Grunya calling her father. + 

“What is it, daughter?” + 

The girl was silent for a moment; she kept looking at that praying figure of the adherent of an alien faith, and then her young and eager voice clearly sounded through the quiet: + 

“Please,⁠ ⁠… what do you think: will God hear that prayer?” + 

Grunya spoke softly, but all heard her. It seemed as if a light breeze had passed along the deck and in more than one soul the question of the pale girl found response: will God hear that prayer? + 

All were silent.⁠ ⁠… Their eyes involuntarily turned upward, as if they wished to follow in the blue of the evening sky the invisible flight of that strange and unintelligible but beautiful prayer.⁠ ⁠… + 

“Why won’t He?⁠ ⁠…” came the irresolutely soft words of a good-natured peasant. “You see, he’s not praying to anyone else. There’s only one God.” + 

“Yes, the Father. You see, he’s looking to heaven.” + 

“Who knows, who knows?⁠ ⁠…” + 

“It’s a hard question⁠—the ways of the Lord.⁠ ⁠…” + 

A block creaked at the bow, the light of a golden star flew to the top of the mast; the waves splashed somewhere in the darkness; the distant whistle of an almost invisible steamboat reechoed above the sleeping river. In the sky the bright stars appeared one after the other, and the blue night hung noiselessly above the meadows, the mountains and the ravines of the Volga. + 

The earth seemed to be sadly asking some question but the heavens remained silent with its quiet and its mystery.⁠ ⁠… + 