the senior priest of the local church, and Mark, both a cleric and a bell-ringer, were sitting at a big round table and drinking tea from a pot-bellied samovar. A spicy fragrance of forest herbs was coming from the steaming hot cups of tea.
“God has not forsaken this place,” Father Konstantin chuckled happily after taking another sip of tea and lifted up his eyes to the sky. “To my great joy, more and more children are being born here. Five children have already been christened this summer.”
“There are many of those who come to the parish, answering the call of the heart. Which gives just as much joy,” the bell-ringer chimed in. “They not only work hard in the land of God, but also turn their thoughts toward him, toward our Father.”
“Fair enough,” the priest agreed.
They crossed themselves and praised the Lord. For a few minutes one could only hear the gurgle of water poured from the samovar and loud slurping of boiling-hot tea from the saucers.
“Just imagine, Father,” the bell-ringer said dreamily, with his mouth wide open and his eyes glued to the ceiling, “what if there were not four hundred, but four thousand people in our parish!”
“You don’t say so, Mark!” Father Konstantin cooled his enthusiasm. “We would not even have enough land for them all. And no jobs for such a horde. Otherwise, how would they earn their living?”
“God created our Earth for living creatures, and it can support them, regardless of their number,” the bell-ringer waved his finger.
“And that is exactly why they live where there is place for them to live.”
“But what if…!” the bell-ringer kept persisting.
“What a dreamer you are!” Father Konstantin smiled. “Don’t let dreams and idle talk make your tea cold.”
“Then I will have another cup of tea!” the cleric replied ardently, patting the round copper belly of the samovar.
“Watch out! You can burn your hand!” the priest grabbed the bell-ringer’s arm.
The restless bell-ringer gave Father Konstantin a reverent look, nodded twice and instantly changed the subject.
“Do you know what Fedotya Andreevna did the other day?”
“What?” the priest moved his cup aside.
“She had a celebration!” Mark threw up his hands.
“How’s that? On a weekday?”
“That’s right! She made pies and invited so many people that there was hardly any room for them,” the bell-ringer was bubbling with excitement. “So she had to set the table in the yard.”
“And was there any reason for such a celebration?” the priest asked.
“She does not need one,” Mark drawled meaningfully and narrowed his eyes slyly.
“It’s hardly surprising,” Father Konstantin smiled. “However, there must be a reason… What does she say?”
“She says she received some good news,” the bell-ringer vouchsafed an explanation, “some welcome news, as she says. The news that affects many people! That is that!”
“Well, her celebration makes us happy!” the priest crossed himself. “She brought an onion-and-egg pie for us. This is the second evening we have been eating it.”
They sipped the tea noisily from their saucers and got lost in their thoughts.
“Don’t you find our old Fedotya… a bit strange?” the bell-ringer asked, scratching the back of his head.
“No, why? Did she do anything wrong?” Every sip of tea and every piece of the pie infused the priest with good humor. “She is an ordinary old woman of faith, wearing a headscarf on her head and a warm shawl on her shoulders. She is always at home, doing chores around the house. And she never misses important events in our church.”
“It may very well be true,” the bell-ringer explored his thought. “But I say, she is somewhat funny. Take this celebration of hers. She declared a random day a red-letter date out of the blue, according to the calendar existing in her imagination, and threw a feast.”
“Well, what is wrong with that?” Nothing was going to put Father Konstantin out of his humor. “A person feels good and wants to share their joy with others. The way I see it, it is a charitable deed.”
“Of course, it is,” the bell-ringer nodded. “It is for sure willed by God…”
His face clouded with concern, and it did not escape the priest’s notice.
“You seem to have something against the old lady. Do you?” he asked, searching the bell-ringer’s face.
“For pity’s sake, Father!” the bell-ringer crossed himself. “I have nothing against her! How can I? Her food tastes so good.”
“She is good at filling your belly with delicious food,” Father Konstantin said, “and she is also good at filling your head with nonsense.”
“How’s that?”
“She is spinning yarns without stopping.”
“You are right about it, Father,” Mark perked up. “She is doing it so well that I wish I could write her stories down!”
“So why don’t you?”
“Yeah, right, as soon as I learn writing!”
They both laughed.
Suddenly, the church bell rang loudly and violently from the bell tower.
The men stopped laughing and gave each other a puzzled look.
“Who is playing pranks there?” Father Konstantin asked, frowning.
“Well, the door is locked! Here is the key!” the bell-ringer apologetically pulled a big copper key out of his pocket and showed it to the senior priest as a proof of his non-involvement in the discipline violation.
“Maybe these are boys who sneaked in there?” Father Konstantin assumed.
“Those boys, they could!” Mark agreed quickly, putting his cup under the samovar faucet.
“Won’t you… well…”
“What?” the bell-ringer looked at the priest blankly, but then caught his demanding gaze and began to hurry. “Sure, sure… I will go and have a look!”
The bell-ringer stood up, leaning on the table. The senior priest rose to his feet too.
“I will go with you!”
They went out to the tall front porch and looked at the bell tower, with their hands shielding their eyes.
The bell kept ringing.
“It is odd,” Father Konstantin broke the silence. “I don’t see anyone there.”
“I don’t see anyone either,” the bell-ringer echoed and in the next breath collected himself and exclaimed: “I’ll be right back, Father!”
He trotted down the stairs and ran to the bell tower. Every here and there onlookers gazed out of their windows at the bell ringing.
“What’s happened?”
Ringing bells at an odd hour heralded a trouble or big news. A handful of children ran out onto the street, but their angry parents brought them back home.
Hardly had the bell-ringer put the key into the lock, the bell stopped ringing. Anyway, the bell-ringer climbed up the steps to find out what was going on.
The northern lights lit up the sky above the bell tower. Shimmering with rainbow colors, they were swirling and glistening. Little by little, they filled out the crevice between the mountains surrounding the village, lit up the tops of the trees and colored the skyline with their dazzling glow.
Father