“Early Sunday morning, when all of Russia from the Verzhbolovo station to the Stone itself bowed before the dark faces of the saints, which from the Greeks are alarmingly illuminated by ruby, emerald and sapphire lamps, a blond boy nicknamed Mukha, who lived as an apprentice to the butcher Defkin , suffered retribution for a broken pencil. He stood in the corner with his knees on the peas, looked sideways at the owners and members of the household, making broad signs of the cross, and wondered: what would they be thinking about on an empty stomach?..”