Further down, someone in the middle started to cough — again everyone was bothered — underneath they hissed for him to shut up, on top they tried to poke him in the side, but probably landed on someone completely different — how can you tell in such a pile-up?
By the morning, they all looked like they had walked around all night, attended three weddings, fought three fights, broke the bones of three grooms and suffered wounds themselves.
But no one froze to death.
“Vladychka, you figured out everyone’s salvation,” said Artiom, while drinking hot water. “Otherwise, we would have frozen to death one by one.”
“I know it,” answered Father John with his eternal smile, sarcastic only with reference to himself. For some reason, he smelled of dried apples. “I can’t guarantee eternal salvation.
