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"Let go of norant ox," I whispered "We're in the house of God "

He dragged , black cloth ripping

"Father, stop it and go away," I said

"Deep in these pits to bury a boy who can paint with the skill of the angels!"

"Brother Ivan, stop your shouting It's for God to decide what each of us will do "

The priests ran behindfro e heavy table He lifted the iron candlestick with its fluttering, protesting candle to light all the tapers around

The illu from his thick eyebrows, combed upwards, diabolical

"You behave like the village idiot, Father," I whispered "It's a wonder I'ar myself "

"Shut up, Andrei Nobody's taught you any h You need me to beat you "

He slammed his fist into the side of my head My ear went numb

"I thought I'd beaten you enough before I brought you here, but not so," he said He sain

"Desecration!" cried the priest, loo above me "The boy's consecrated to God "

"Consecrated to a pack of lunatics," said s, Brothers!" he said with contempt

He lay back the soft leather and re "Paint, Andrei Paint to reift from God Himself "

"And God Himself it is who paints the picture," cried the priest, the eldest of theray hair was so soiled in time with oil that it was near black He pushed his way between my chair and my Father