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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..06ab0b4 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55828 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55828) diff --git a/old/55828-8.txt b/old/55828-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0b37c79..0000000 --- a/old/55828-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9373 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Confession, by Maxim Gorky - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Confession - A Novel - -Author: Maxim Gorky - -Translator: Rose Strunsky - -Release Date: October 27, 2017 [EBook #55828] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONFESSION *** - - - - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version,also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... MOOC's, educational materials,...) -(Images generously made available by the Internet Archive.) - - - - - - -THE CONFESSION - -_A NOVEL_ - -BY - -MAXIM GORKY - -TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY - -ROSE STRUNSKY - -WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY THE TRANSLATOR - -NEW YORK - -FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY - -PUBLISHERS - -1916 - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -To me Gorky has never suffered from that change it has become so -fashionable for young Russia to mourn. - -"Since he has begun to give us doctrines, he has lost all his art," -they say and shake their heads, "We can get all the doctrines we -want from the platform of the Social Democratic party or from the -theorists of the Social Revolutionaries--why go to Gorky? Or if it is -a philosophy of life that we seek, have we not always Tolstoi, who is -greater, truer and has more consummate art? Why does he not write again -a _Foma Gordyeeff_, or an _Orloff and His Wife_, or a _Konovaloff_!" - -I re-read _Foma Gordyeeff, Orloff and His Wife, Konovaloff_ and so on, -and read also _Mother, The Spy, In Prison_, and the little fables with -a purpose so sadly decried, and I see nothing there but the old Gorky -writing as usual from the by-ways of life as he passes along on the -road. The road has lengthened and widened in the twenty-five years of -his wandering, that is all. Russia has changed and grown and passed -through deepstirring experiences from the year 1890, when Gorky first -published his immortal story of _Makar Chudra_, to her present moment -of titanic struggle in the World War--the beginning of the year 1916. - -Russia's changes were Gorky's changes. He first flung his type of hero, -the people from the lowest of the low--water-rats, tramps, petty -thieves--into a discouraged, disappointed and hopeless Russia. It was -a Russia that had almost decided that there were no more people, that -they were without courage, that the misery and degradation in which -they lived was there because of their own inefficiency, their lack of -idealism, their incapacity to grasp an idea and to strike and fight for -it. - -The Russia that thought this and the Russia that Gorky awakened from -its torpor by introducing to it again the people it had almost learned -to scorn, showing them with a capacity of understanding ideas, with -deep emotions and great courage, was the Russia that had settled back -in bitter disappointment after the sad failure of the Revolutionary -movement of the eighties. - -Like an eddying pool, the generations in Russia have risen to the -surface, made their protest against the anachronism of autocracy and -despotism, and then subsided back again into the still and inert -waters of the nation. But each rising generation has made a wider and -wider eddy, coming ever from a greater depth. Thus in 1825 it was -merely a small group of military officers, who having learned from the -Napoleonic campaigns that there were such things as constitutional law -and order, that liberty and freedom were truths to fight for, broke out -in revolt in Petrograd in December of that year only to be immediately -crushed. Five of the leaders were hanged, and the rest, intellectuals -and writers among them, were sent to Siberia. - -The loss of the élite of Russia, despite the names of Pushkin and -Lermontoff which graced that period, made great inroads in the -intellectual life of the country. But in the fifties and sixties the -seeming quiet was broken into by a new restlessness. This time the -student youth, the young sons and daughters of the landlords and the -nobles, became inspired by a passion for learning, for new conceptions -of education, for new liberties of the people, for the abolition of -serfdom and for a Pan-Slavism that would be democratic. It was then -that the women left their homes to seek higher education and to enter -new fields of work. They had to break with family tyranny which was -fostered by tradition and the State, their men comrades standing -valiantly by, helping them to make escapes, going through the forms of -mock marriage, and conducting them safely to that Mecca of learning for -the Russian youth--the medical school of Geneva. It was in this way -that Sonya Kovalevsky, who later became the famous mathematician in the -University of Stockholm, made her escape into the world, and the untold -other heroines of Russia who were soon to return educated, free, and -fired with a zeal to spread their new-found freedom to the people. - -The abolition of serfdom in '61 brought with it great discontent, for -the peasants had been led to believe that they would be liberated -together with the land, since Russian serfdom, unlike the Western, -was based on the theory that the peasant was attached to the land and -that the landlord's hold on it came through his ownership of the serf. -Consequently it was argued, when the Russian serf was liberated and -the ancient communal village form maintained, that all the land the -serfs had owned would go to them. Of course, that was very far from -what really happened. It is true that the serfs were liberated and the -ancient communal form kept, but the land allotted to the village was -poor and meager, the plots were scattered, and the tax on them for -repayment to the landlords was so great that it took over fifty years -to pay. - -The peasants foresaw exactly the future that awaited them; the dearth -in land, none too much to begin with, and the consequential lessening -at each redistribution as the village increased in "souls," the needed -"renting" from the landlord at exorbitant rates, the inability to -pay and the resultant "paying in his own labor," and the eventual -reestablishment of a virtual serfdom. Insurrections took place all -over the country, the peasants believing firmly that the Government -had treated them more kindly but that the landlords were deceiving -them. However, the Government came only too gladly to the aid of the -landlords, having got used to blood-baths in its drastic quenching of -the Polish insurrection of '63. - -The general disappointment among the youth in the Government's attitude -towards both Polish liberty and peasant rights led to a stronger and -more revolutionary stand on their part. Unlike the reaction that set -in during the long and tyrannical reign of Nicholas I, after the -outburst of the Decembrists, or the reaction that was to follow those -thirty years of effort when the notes of Gorky were to sound like a -clarion call to a renewed faith, the decade of the seventies rose -to one of extreme and intense idealism. The generation which had -gone out of Russia to gain for itself new liberties had now returned -and was spread throughout the length and breadth of the vast land, -making converts by the thousands where formerly there were but few. -The "fathers" and "sons" though not understanding each other very -fully, were nevertheless following a pretty equal tendency. Where the -former had sought for new general liberties in politics and social -life through education, the latter, feeling that a great deal had -already been won, had decided upon propaganda of action. The movement -changed from a freeing of one's self to a freeing of the people. "To -the people" became the watchword of the hour. The youth of the better -classes went to live among the peasants, taught them, organized them -into secret revolutionary groups for "land and liberty," made several -abortive attempts at peasant revolution, and finally, the Government -growing more and more reactionary, ended in the wielding of a personal -"terror" against the Government representatives, which culminated in -the assassination of the Czar, Alexander II, in 1882. - -The reprisals that set in, the wholesale exiling of the youth to -Siberia, the internment for life in the fortresses of Peter and Paul -and in Schlüsselberg for participation in the Party of the Will of the -People, and the general opinion that however reactionary Alexander -II was he was still much more ready for reforms than his successor -Alexander III, gave rise to a fundamental disillusionment. The -sacrifices of the youth had been too much. They had led themselves -to be hanged and tortured only to bring in an era of still greater -darkness. The people were not ready for reforms, they did not wish -them. They would not have understood what to do with liberties could -they have had them. There was nothing to do but sit back on one's -estate, exploit the peasants as did the grandfathers and say, "We are -powerless and the peasants unworthy." - -This period was the more painful because it came fast upon one which -was full of idealism and hope. The men who lived on in inertia, -drinking tea and discussing vacuously the futility of life, had known -a time when they had hoped and thought and planned otherwise. They had -almost cynically to repudiate their former selves. - -The writer who brought out most acutely the great anguish of this -period was Anton Chekhov. He is now being recognized as the greatest -artist of his time, who followed naturally the trend of the years he -lived in. His humor, at first gentle and sorrowful, became later coarse -and gross as the darkness around him deepened. His characters are -inert, some eaten up by unfulfilled desires, others incapable even of -recalling the faint echo of a former hope. A "Chekhov Sorrow" became a -well-known definite phrase in Russian life. - -It was before this Russia that Gorky made his appearance. Himself one -of the people, he showed them again the face of the people. It had -beauty and courage, it had qualities of strength long since forgotten. -The effect was electrical. Gorky was hailed as one upon whom the cloak -of Tolstoi was to fall, for better than Tolstoi, he did not appear as -a leader of the people, but as one who disclosed the people _en masse_. - -Gorky's appearance in the cultured and literary world of Russia -suffering from the "Chekhov Sorrow" has an analogy in my mind to the -sudden appearance of Peter Karpovitch in the fortress of Schlüsselberg. -There sat the men and women for almost twenty years, cut off from all -outside communication, wondering when and how their work would be -carried on. One by one they had died off and only a handful remained -to question if the youth would ever awake to strong purposes again. -Then suddenly, in the year 1902, the big gates opened, and the student -Peter Karpovitch entered. Without connection with any revolutionary -group, by an instinctive feeling of the pulse of the time, he made -his strike against the increasing reaction, shooting the Minister of -Education, Bogolyepov, in February, 1901, for the wholesale exiling of -the students into the military on the lines employed by Nicholas I. - -This advance guard of the Russian Revolution was tall and handsome, -with the traditional heroic, figure of the Little Russian. He came -to the men of the past in all his strength and beauty as a symbol of -the new era. Upon his footsteps followed fast Bolmashev, the executor -of Sipiagin, who this time committed his act under the direction of -an organized group, the Social Revolutionaries. In two years Russia -was aflame. The Governor General of Finland, Bobrikoff, was shot in -June, 1904. This was followed in a few weeks by the assassination of -Von Plehve and the Grand Duke Sergei, by general labor strikes, by -the demonstration in Petrograd in front of the Winter Palace which -led to the terrible massacre of Bloody Sunday on January 22, 1905, -by the mutinies in the Black Sea fleet and in Kronstadt, and by the -nation-wide general strike in every branch of industry and life in -October, 1905. Finally a Constitution and the Duma were granted to the -people. The herald of the new order to the old was the tall handsome -youth whose strange footsteps were heard suddenly and unexpectedly one -March morning treading the hitherto silent corridors of the fortress. - -Thus, as Karpovitch to the prisoners in Schlüsselberg, came Gorky to -Russia at large. - -He was marvelously fitted to dispel the disappointment that was -felt about the people. Himself one of the people, he had merely to -disclose himself to prove again their courage and nobility. The life -of Gorky has been particularly tragic and particularly Russian. He -was born in a dyer's shop in Nizhni-Novgorad in 1869. His real name -is Alexei Maximovich Peshkov, and it is significant that when he came -to write he signed himself "Maxim Gorky"--"Maxim, the Bitter." His -father died when he was four and he was totally orphaned at seven. -His childhood was spent in the care of his maternal grandfather, who -was extremely religious and a miser. The foundation of the bitterness -he was to feel was thus laid early, for the life of the lonely child -with the harsh, unsympathetic old man, can be well imagined, though -the peculiarly Russian setting can be had only by reading his recent -book, _My Childhood_. At the death of his mother he was apprenticed to -a shoemaker, and at eleven he decided that he had had enough of home -ties and left Nizhni-Novgorad for good. He started tramping and after -various vicissitudes found himself a helper to a cook on one of the -Volga boats. This man had been at one time a noncommissioned officer -and he carried his past culture with him in the form of a trunk full -of books. It was a queer assortment, from Gogol to school manuals and -popular novels, and Gorky dipped liberally into it. The result was -that a craving for real learning arose in him, which would have come -no doubt to the imaginative youth at this age even without the aid -of that haphazard library. He left the Volga steamer and tramped to -the University of Kazan, thinking that learning would be free to any -one who wished it. He was bitterly disappointed, for the University -demanded fees, and so instead of registering as a student he was forced -to take a job as a bakery helper. This work he did for two years and it -seems to have made a deep impression upon him, for there is scarcely a -story of his where the hero does not spend two years baking bread in -some filthy cellar among flour dust and general filth. - -He left the bakeshop to wander with those tramps and "ex-men" whose -poet he was later to be. The life held suffering which ate deep into -the vitals of his being--hunger, privations, nights with the police -for vagabondage; and finally so great became this conflict between the -beauty and goodness for which his nature craved and the constant evil -around him, that in 1889 at the age of twenty-one he sent a bullet -through his chest. Like many of the Russian youth, whose passionate -natures make impossible the compromise between their inherent idealism -and the sordidness and brutality of actual existence, he had decided -to be done with the mockery. Fortunately the bullet did not kill and -he took up his life of vagabondage again. In 1892 he is once more in -Nizhni-Novgorad, actually holding the respectable post of a lawyer's -clerk. The lawyer, a man called Lanin, seems to have taken a great -interest in the intelligent young man who discussed "cursed" questions -and had a "live and energetic soul." He threw opportunities for study -in his way, but Gorky's free and untamed youth, coupled with the taste -of the "mother earth" he grew to love so, made it impossible for -him to lead the well-ordered life of a professional clerk, and in a -city, at that. He left Lanin, for he did not "feel at home with these -intelligent people," he said, and tramped to the Caucasus, making -a detour on the way from the Volga, through the Don district, into -Bessarabia and Southern Crimea. - -Coming to the Caucasus he found work in a railroad yard in Tiflis. His -mind had already begun to digest the types of those tramps, Tartars -and gipsies he met in his wanderings, for as early as 1890 his first -story _Makar Chudra_ made its appearance in the little paper _Kafhas_ -in Tiflis. It is a story of two thieves, written with great simplicity -and naturalness. There is no doubt that Gorky had met them and had been -true to the incidents related. It showed them strong, sensitive as -women, with a subtle capacity of understanding each other's emotions. -In a typically Russian scene, one thief unburdens his heart to the -other, telling him how he had wanted to kill him and how he had nearly -done so. The other listens, sympathetic, understanding fully how that -state of mind came to him, and they part in great tenderness! These -are no weaklings, they are personalities held by iron chains in a -Greek fatalism, and the fatality is life--Russian life. Gorky had not -yet come to the point where he could lay his hand on the social enemy -and say "here it is." He saw only a great misery and natures torn in -anguish, but not ruined as the generation before had supposed. Though -this story itself, appearing, as it did, in a provincial paper, made -no immediate name for him, his later stories, in which both canvas and -treatment are exactly the same, brought him recognition forthwith. - -Gorky left Tiflis and wandered back to the Volga and there, by -happy chance, met the Little Russian writer, Korolenko, the author -of _Makar's Dream_ and _The Blind Musician_. As editor of _The -Contemporary_, Korolenko introduced him to "great" literature, as he -put it, and in a flash he was made known to all of Russia. He continued -writing in the same vein he introduced in _Makar Chudra_, using the -strong, outcast, rebel types in _Emilian Pibgai_ and _Chalkash_, -which were published in 1895 under Korolenko's editorship, and in -_Konovaloff,_ _Malva_, _Foma Gordyeeff_ his first long novel, and in -the innumerable other works which preceded the supposed "change" in -Gorky's manner. He showed his heroes to Russia as one shows a scene by -pulling back a curtain: "this is what exists; here are men who do not -conform to your laws, not because you have made outcasts of them, but -because they despise you and all your smug respectability." - -But he did not say so in so many words, he merely showed this canvas. -The change in Gorky is the change in Russia, which grew from a silent -and brooding mood to one of talk and action. As the Russian people -became more self-conscious so did he, changing from a man torn hither -and thither by circumstances to one who was able to analyze life and -know cause and effect. His very sudden success so early in his life -made it impossible for him to keep on writing and re-writing the same -themes in the same manner as he had begun. He was too great and dynamic -a genius for that. To him as to most Russians the art itself is not the -thing, but the self-expression and the truth. Thus when Gorky swung -out from the life of tramps and wanderers into the intellectual life -of Russia, he found a nation organized into various groups, analyzing -the cause of Russian social and political misery, finding an economic -and materialistic reason for it, and setting about to remedy it. Gorky -joined one of these groups, the Social Democratic Party, was one of -the signers of the petition to the Czar which demanded with an amusing -Russian naïveté that the Czar grant not only economic justice to the -strikers in the steel works of Petrograd, but also a constitutional -assembly, universal suffrage, a direct and secret ballot, and free -speech, free press and freedom of religion! For these demands and the -subsequent demonstration in front of the Winter Palace which resulted -in the notorious massacre of Bloody Sunday, Gorky was imprisoned in the -fortress of Peter and Paul. His prominence and the fact that he was -subject to tuberculosis caused a universal demand for his release. He -was freed after a month and was allowed to stay in Finland and even in -Petrograd for a while during the so-called days of freedom. - -By this time Gorky had thrown himself entirely into the cause of the -Majority Faction of the Social Democratic Party, an organization not -strictly Marxian, in the sense that they did not wait for an economic -development to bring about the cooperative commonwealth but believed -that by mass action and general strike Russia could bring about a -revolution on socialistic lines without the necessity of intermediary -steps. In 1905 he left Russia and came to America, hoping to collect -money for the Revolutionary cause, but his work failed entirely because -of the fact that the charming and brilliant lady who came with him -to America and registered as his wife was not legally so. The men of -prominence, Mark Twain among them, who formed committees to help raise -the funds, resigned, and Gorky's plans failed entirely. Not only was -no money for the "cause" raised, but he was received nowhere, the very -hotel he stayed in asking him to leave at midnight. It was supposed -that agents of the Russian Government, fearing Gorky's too great -success in America, sprung the trap and thus discredited him. At any -rate, Gorky naturally left the shores of America in great disgust, and -the dark days of Russian reaction having already set in, went to live -in practical exile on the island of Capri, in Italy. Leonid Andreyeff, -the Russian writer, and many revolutionary refugees generally stayed -with him. It was from Capri that the longer novels, _The Spy_ and -this work, _The Confession_, were written. He was by this time living -entirely in the cultured world, thinking earnestly and scientifically -to the best of his ability about the political and social conditions -around him. - -The great light, the great inspiring motive power of the Russian has -ever been the people. The only ray of happiness in the works of Gorky -is the joy that comes to his characters when they begin to work for the -people. Life is depressing, life is a quagmire, a bog wherein great -and noble souls are forced to wallow, when suddenly light appears. It -is in the organization for the creation of a better life. One feels -just for one little instant the happiness that life can bring when -this vision of the new order appears. In the novel called _Three of -Them_, the pages lighten with relief when the little Social Democratic -agitator appears, giving hope and courage, but she is swept out of the -life of the unhappy men that fill the pages of that book as suddenly as -she appeared and there is nothing for the hero to do but throw himself -under a passing train and die for disappointment and impotence. - -This was in the beginning when he himself first saw the meaning of the -"Cause," before it had become fully part of his life. Later his works -changed their scene, following the exact manner in which the Russian -people themselves changed their mental attitude. The background of the -same Russian people, the same giants with the same courage and the -same ability, was no longer a quagmire, but a battlefield. They were -struggling to win their rights. Interwoven in the pages of his later -work rises the new Russia of the last decade, the self-conscious, -fighting Russia. In _The Spy_, which was written in 1908, we see the -Russian not yet come into his own, still living in ignorance and -disorder, but his activity is different. He is in a fight. The same -change is in _Mother_ and in the work _In Prison_. A new pæan is -sung, it is the song of the people marching _en masse_. Perhaps Walt -Whitman came the nearest to this same feeling of democracy, but unlike -Whitman it is not of the people that Gorky sings, but it is the people -themselves that are the song-makers. They are the "creators." "In them -dwells God." - -The Russian who finds Gorky's later works too doctrinaire, too -purposeful, never quarrels with him because he finds his theme at fault -or the conclusions wrong, but because he thinks his art has failed. -They say they have revised their opinion that Gorky would mean to them -what Tolstoi has meant, for they still consider the latter to be more -universal and truer philosopher and artist. They find it inartistic -for Gorky to talk to them of what they already know. They want to hear -again about the strange and beautiful types they did not know of before -and to read again his beautiful lines with their exquisite descriptions -of nature, which they consider unsurpassed by the greatest. However, -to me Gorky's aestheticism is too one-sided. It is the aestheticism -of the primitive whom only the grandiose impresses. The soft, subtle -shadings leave him untouched. There is no doubt that he loves -passionately his "mother earth" with the vast, undulating steppes, the -tall mountains of the Caucasus, the great dome of the sky, and the -living sweep of the sea. His descriptions of these scenes glow as does -a Western writer over the charms of his beloved, but we miss the charms -of the beloved. - -In reading Russian literature, it must always be remembered that one -is reading of a people whose civilization is intrinsically different -from that of the West. It is the difference between action and -passivity. Professor Milvoukoff would have us believe that it is the -autocratic form of government which has made the Russian live so long -in inactivity, that both his reasoning powers and imaginative faculties -have developed far in excess of the rest of Europe's. It is true that -the Russian is never afraid to go to the end of a thought, to fight -for freedom far in excess of that already attained in the Western -world, and to ask continually the fundamental questions of "Why," and -"Wherefore," and "Where am I going," and "Where does this lead me to?" -The knife of Russian literature discloses as surely a cross-section -of Russian civilization as does that of Guy de Maupassant, Flaubert, -Zola and other realists of the French school disclose the French. And -yet this cross-section of Russian civilization is difficult to grasp -without a more intimate knowledge of both the history and the people. -It is difficult for me now to remember my conceptions of Russian life -as I got them from the Russian writers before my visit to Russia ten -years ago. America, California, all the activities of our Western life -made the characters and problems in Turgeneff, Dostoyeffsky and Gogol -seem vague and unreal, made them move about in a nebulous society where -one asked embarrassing personal questions and were always answered with -a truth that had rudeness in it. - -I had a coward's entry into Russia. There were rumors of riots and -disorders, for it was in the year of general strikes and barricades, -and as the train moved farther into the interior, the guards who -shoveled the snow off the track seemed to me soldiers under arms, -standing there to protect us from some infuriated mob. My heart beat -with fear at that great and uncouth stranger to me, the Russian -people. But as my stay in Russia was prolonged, my kinship with the -people grew. The common man appeared to me as a gentle protector and -friend. The drivers of the droshkies, the peasants, the workingmen, the -conductors on the trains, all became kindly elder brothers, who set -one on one's right path or made a friendly remark as one passed along. -Every one talked to every one, and although the great interest of the -time was the Duma and the political situation, there lurked always a -personal understanding and a personal relation behind each discussion. -All classes had this attitude, and though the educated had more facts -at their resources, for they knew history and the outside world, they -had the same outlook and the same manner as the others. I became so -much at one with the people around me, that when I left Russia eighteen -months later, I felt this time fearful at going away, as if now truly -I were going from home into a strange land. As the train came into the -Western world, as I found myself in Poland and out again into Austria, -I was again alone, a solitary and detached individual who was to stand -on guard against the ill-turn which would be given me if I were not -watchful. Outside of Russia, the people, "the God-creators," as Gorky -calls them, fell apart into millions of various atoms, each struggling -for his own life. It was in Russia that I left them still unspoiled, -unadventitious, united in a great simplicity of faith and love. It is -therefore that the last chapter of this book is distinct and real to -me, and I can almost see with my own eyes that vast, surging procession -of the people, showing their loving strength and giving of their -strength to the weak. - -To-day, when all ideals and hopes have gone smash in the hurly-burly of -this World War, Gorky has taken his side with his country and is again -living in Russia. In the interim, before he can pick up the gauntlet -to fight on for a new and better order, he has gone back to his former -theme, writing as before of the tramps and "ex-men" and gipsies he knew -in his youth, and Russia is pleased with him once more. - -ROSE STRUNSKY. - -New York, February, 1916. - - - - -THE CONFESSION - - -CHAPTER I - - -Let me tell you my life; it won't take much of your time--you ought to -know it. - -I am a weed, a foundling, an illegitimate being. It isn't known to -whom I was born, but I was abandoned on the estate of Mr. Loseff in -the village of Sokal, in the district of Krasnoglinsk. My mother left -me--or perhaps it was some one else--in the landlord's park, on the -steps of the little shrine under which the old landlady Loseff lay -buried and where I was found by Danil Vialoff, the gardener. He was -walking in the park early in the morning, when he saw a child wrapped -in rags lie moving on the steps, of the shrine. A smoke-colored cat was -walking stealthfully around it. - -I lived with Danil until I was four years old, but as he himself had a -large family, I fed myself wherever I happened to be, and when I found -nothing I whined and whined, then fell asleep hungry. - -When I was four I was taken by the sexton Larion, a very strange and -lonely man; he took me because of his loneliness. He was short of -stature, round like a toy balloon and had a round face. His hair was -red, his voice thin like a woman's, and his heart was also like a -woman's, gentle to everybody. He liked to drink wine and drank much of -it; when sober he was silent, his eyes always half-closed, and he had -an air of being guilty before all, but when drunk, he sang psalms and -hymns in a loud voice, held his head high and smiled at every one. - -He remained apart from people, living in poverty, for he had given -away his share to the priest, while he himself fished both summer and -winter. And for fun he caught singing birds, teaching me to do the -same. He loved birds and they were not afraid of him; it is touching -to recall how even the most timid of little birds would run over his -red head and get mixed up in his fiery hair. Or the bird would settle -on his shoulder and look into his mouth, bending its wise little head -to the side. Then again Larion would lie on a bench and sprinkle -hempseed in his head and beard, and canaries, goldfinches, tomtits -and bullfinches would collect around him, hunting through his hair, -creeping over his cheeks, picking his ears, settling on his nose while -he lay there roaring with laughter, squinting his eyes and conversing -tenderly with them. I envied him for this--of me, the birds were afraid. - -Larion was a man of tender soul and all animals recognized it; I can't -say the same for men, though I don't mean to blame them for I know man -isn't fed by caresses. - -It used to be rather difficult for him in winter; he had no wood and -he had nothing to buy it with, having drunk up the money. His little -hut was as cold as a cellar, except that the birds chirped and sang, -and the two of us would lie on the cold stove, wrapped in everything -possible, listening to the singing of the birds. Larion would whistle -to them--he could whistle well--looking like a grossbeak, with his -large nose, his hooked bill and his red head. Often he would say to -me: "Well, listen, Motka" (I was baptized Matvei). "Listen!" - -He would lie on his back, his hands under his head, squinting his eyes -and singing something from the funeral Liturgy in his thin voice. The -birds would then become quiet, stopping to listen, then they themselves -would begin to sing one after the other. Larion would try to sing -louder than they and they would exert themselves, especially the -canaries and goldfinches, or the thrushes and starlings. He would often -sing himself up to such a point that the tears from his eyes would -trickle from out his lids, wetting his cheeks and washing his face gray. - -This singing sometimes frightened me, and once I said to him in a -whisper: - -"Uncle, why do you always sing about death?" He stopped, looked at me -and said, smiling, - -"Don't get frightened, silly. It doesn't matter if it is about death; -it is pretty. Of the whole church service the funeral mass is the most -beautiful. It offers tenderness to man and pity for him. Among us, no -one has pity except for the dead." These words I remember very well, as -I do all his words, but of course at that time I could not understand -them. The things of childhood are only understood on the eve of old -age, for these are the wisest years of man. - -I remember also that I asked him once, "Why does God help man so -little?" - -"It's none of His business," he explained to me. "Help yourself, -that's why reason was given to you. God is here so that it won't be so -terrible to die, but just how to live, that is your affair." - -I soon forgot these words of his, and recalled them too late, and that -is why I have suffered much vain sorrow. - -He was a remarkable man! When angling most people never shout and never -speak so as not to frighten the fish, but Larion sang unceasingly, or -recounted the lives of the saints to me, or spoke to me about God, and -yet the fish always flocked to him. Birds must also be caught with -care, but he whistled all the time, teased them and talked to them and -it never mattered--the birds walked into his traps and nets. The same -thing as to bees; when setting a hive or doing anything else, which old -bee-keepers do with prayers, and even then don't always succeed, the -sexton, when called for the job, would strike the bees, crush them, -swear profanely, and yet everything went in the best way possible. -He didn't like bees--they blinded a daughter of his once. She found -herself in a bee-hive--she was only three at the time--and a bee stung -her eye. This eye grew diseased, and then blind, and soon the other -eye followed. Later the little girl died from headache, and her mother -became insane. - -Yes, he never did anything the way other people did, and he was as -tender to me as if he were my own mother. They did not treat me with -much mercy in the village. Life was hard, and I was a stranger, and a -superfluous one.... Suddenly and illegally to be eating the morsel that -belonged to some one else! - -Larion taught me the church service, and I became his helper and sang -with him in the choir, lit the censer, and did all that was needed. I -helped the watchman Vlassi keep order in the church and I liked doing -all this, especially in winter. The church was of brick, they heated it -well, and it was warm inside it. - -I liked vespers better than morning mass. In the evening the people -were purified by work and were freed of their worries, and they stood -quietly and majestically, and their souls shone like wax candles with -little flames. It was plain then, that though people had different -faces their misery was the same. - -Larion liked the church service; he would close his eyes, throw back -his red head, stick out his Adam's apple and burst forth into song, -losing himself so that he would even start off on some uncalled for -hymn and the priest would make signs to him from the altar: "Where is -it taking you?" He also read beautifully. His voice was singsong and -sonorous, and had tenderness in it, and emotion and joy. The priest did -not like him, nor did he like the priest. More than once he said to me: - -"That, a priest! He is no priest, he is a drum upon whom need and -force of habit beat their sticks. If I were a priest, I would read the -service in such a way that not only would I make the people cry, but -even the holy images!" - -It was true--the priest did not suit his post. He was short-nosed and -dark as if he had been singed by gun-powder. His mouth was large and -toothless, his beard straggly, his hair thin and bald on top, his -arms long. He had a hoarse voice and he panted as if carrying a load -that was too much for his strength. He was greedy and always in a bad -humor--for his family was large and the village was poor, the land of -the peasants bad and there was no business. - -In summer, even when the mosquitoes were thick, Larion and I spent our -days and our nights in the woods to hunt for birds or on the river to -catch fish. It happened that he would be needed unexpectedly for some -religious ceremony and he would not be there, nor would any one know -where to find him. All the little boys in the village would scatter -to hunt for him, running like hares and crying, "Sexton! Larion! Come -home!" He would hardly ever be found. The priest would scold and -threaten to complain, and the peasants would laugh. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Larion had a friend, Savelko Migun, a notorious thief, and a habitual -drunkard. He was beaten more than once for his thieving and even sat in -jail for it, but for all that he was a remarkable person. He sang songs -and told stories in such a way that it is impossible to remember them -without wonder. - -I heard him many times, and now he stands before me as if alive; he was -dry, lively, had a sparse beard, was all in tatters; with a small phiz -and a wedge-shaped, large forehead underneath which often twinkled his -thievish, merry eyes like two dark stars. - -Often he would bring a bottle of vodka, or Larion would insist on -buying one, and they would sit opposite each other at the table, -Savelko saying: - -"Well, sexton, roll out the litany." - -Then they drank ... Larion, a bit abashed, would nevertheless begin to -sing, and Savelko sat as if glued to the spot, trembling, his little -beard twitching, his eyes full of tears, smoothing his forehead with -his hand and smiling or wiping the tears from his cheek with his -fingers. - -Then he would bounce up like a ball, crying: - -"Most superb, Laria! Well, I envy the Lord God--beautiful songs are -made for Him! But for man, Laria? What's man anyway, no matter how good -he be or how rich his soul? It isn't hard for him to go before the -Lord. But He, what does He do? Thou givest me nothing, Lord, and I give -Thee my whole soul!" - -"Don't blaspheme!" Larion would say. - -"I blaspheme?" Savelko would cry; "I never even thought of such a -thing! How am I blaspheming? In no way at all! I am rejoicing for the -Lord, that's all. And now I am going to sing you something." - -He would stand up, stretch out his arm, and begin to chant. He sang -quietly and mysteriously, opening his eyes wide and moving his dry -finger continually on his outstretched arm, as if it were hunting for -something in space. Larion would lean up against the wall, rest his -hands on the bench, and look on in open-mouthed wonder. I lay on the -stove with my heart melting within me with sweet sadness. Savelko would -grow black before me, only his little white teeth would glisten and his -dry tongue would move like a serpent's while the sweat would rise on -his forehead in thick drops. His voice seemed endless, and it flowed -out and shone like a stream in a meadow. He would finish, stagger a -bit, wipe his face with the back of his hand, then both would take a -drink and remain silent a long time. Later Savelko would ask-- - -"And now Laria, 'The Ocean Waves.'" - -And in this way they cheered each other up all evening as long as they -were not yet drunk. When that happened, Migun began to tell obscene -stories about priests, landlords, and kings, and my sexton would laugh -and I with them. Savelko without tiring produced one story after -another, and each one so funny that he almost choked with laughter. - -But best of all he sang on holidays in the wineshop. He stood up in -front of the people, frowning hard so that the wrinkles lay deep on his -temples. To look at him, one would think the songs came to his bosom -from the earth itself and that the earth showed him the words and gave -strength to his voice. Around him stood or sat the peasants, some with -heads bowed chewing a piece of straw, others staring into Savelko's -mouth, and all were radiant, while the women even wept as they listened. - -When he finished they said: - -"Give us another, brother." - -And they brought him drinks. - -The following story was told about Migun. He stole something in the -village, and the peasants caught him. When they caught him, they said: - -"Well, that finishes you! Now we are going to hang you, we can't stand -you any longer." - -And he, the story goes, answered: - -"Drop it, peasants, that's a nasty job you've begun. You have already -taken from me the things I've stolen, so that you have lost nothing. -Anyway, you can always get new things, but where will you get such a -fellow as I? Who will cheer you up when I'm gone?" - -"All right," they said, "talk on." - -They took him to the wood to hang him and he began to sing on the way. -When they first started out, they walked fast, then they slowed up. -When they came to the wood, though the rope was ready, they waited, -until he should finish his last song. Then they said to one another: - -"Let him sing another song. It will do for his Last Communion." - -He sang another and then another, and then the sun rose. The men looked -about them; a clear day was rising from the east. Migun stood smiling -among them awaiting his death without fear. The peasants became abashed. - -"Well, fellows, let him go to the devil," they said. "If we hang him, -we might have all kinds of sins and troubles on our heads for it." - -And they decided not to touch Migun. - -"We bow to the ground before you for your talent," they said, "but for -your thieving we ought to beat you up, all the same." - -They gave him a light beating, and then they all went back in a body -with him. - -All this might have been made up, but it speaks well for human beings, -and puts Savelko in a good light. And then think of this: if people can -make up such good stories, it follows they are not so bad, and in this -lies the whole point. - -Not only did they sing songs together, but Savelko and Larion carried -on long conversations with each other--often about the devil. They did -not give him much honor. - -Once I remember the sexton saying: - -"The devil is the image of your own wickedness, the reflection of your -own dark soul." - -"That means, he is my own foolishness?" Savelko asked. - -"Just that and nothing else." - -"It must be so," Migun said, laughing. "For were he alive, he would -have snatched me up long ago!" - -Larion didn't believe in devils at all. I remember him discussing in -the barn with the Dissenters and he shouting: - -"It is not devilish, but brutish! Good and evil are in man. When you -want goodness, goodness is there; _if_ you want evil, evil is there, -from you and for you. God does not force you by His Will either to good -or evil. He created you free-willed, and you are free to do both good -and evil. Your devil is misery and darkness! Good is really something -human, because it springs from God, while your evil doesn't come from -the devil, but from the brute in you." - -They shouted at him: - -"Red-haired heretic!" - -But he kept on. - -"That's why," he said, "the devil is painted with horns and feet like -a goat's, because he is the brute element in man." - -Best of all Larion spoke about Christ. I always wept when I pictured -the bitter fate that befell the Holy Son of God. His whole life stood -before me, from the discussion in the Temple with the wise men, to -Golgotha, and He was like a pure and beautiful child in His ineffable -love for the people, with a kind smile for all and a tender word of -consolation--always like a child, dazzling in His beauty. - -"Even with the wise men of the Temple," Larion said, "Christ conversed -like a child, that is why in his simple wisdom He appeared greater than -they. You, Motka, remember this, and try to conserve the child-like -throughout your whole life, for in it lies truth." - -I would ask him: - -"Will Christ come again soon?" - -"Yes, soon," he would say, "soon, for it is said that people are again -looking for Him." - -As Larion's words now come back to me, it seems to me that he saw -God as the great Creator of the most beautiful things, and man as an -incompetent being, who was lost on the by-ways of the world. And he -pitied this talentless heir to the great riches left to him on this -earth by God. - -Both he and Savelko had one faith. I remember that an ikon appeared -miraculously in our village. Once, very early on an autumn morning a -woman came to the well for water, when suddenly she saw something -glow in the darkness at the bottom of the well. She called the people -together. The village elder appeared, the priest came, and Larion ran -up. They let a man down into the well and he brought up the ikon of the -"unburnt bush." They performed mass right on the spot and then they -decided to put up a shrine above the well, the priest crying: - -"Orthodox, give your offerings." - -The village elder lent his authority and gave three rubles himself. The -peasants untied their purses and the women earnestly brought pieces of -linen and grain of all sorts. There was rejoicing in the village and I, -too, was happy, as on the day of Christ's holy Resurrection. - -But even during mass I noticed that Larion's face looked sad. He -glanced at no one, and Savelko ran about like a mouse through the -crowd and giggled. At night I went to look at the apparition. It stood -above the well, giving forth an azure glow like a vapor, as if some -one unseen was breathing on it tenderly, warming it with his light and -heat; it gave me anguish and pleasure. - -When I came home I heard Larion say sadly, - -"There is no such Holy Virgin." - -And Savelko drawled out the following, laughing: - -"I know, Moses lived long before Christ. Why! the scoundrels! A -miracle, what? Oh, but you peasants are queer!" - -"For this the elder and the priest ought to go to jail," Larion said -in a very low voice. "Let them not kill the God in man just to slack -their own greed." - -I felt uneasy at this conversation and I asked from the stove: - -"What are you talking about, Uncle Larion?" - -They were silent, then they whispered to each other; evidently they -were disturbed. Then Savelko cried: - -"What is the matter with you? You yourself complained that the people -were fools, and now you are shamelessly making a fool of Matveika! Why?" - -He jumped over to me and said: - -"Look, Motka, here are matches. I rub them between my hands, see? Put -out the light, Larion." - -They put out the lamp, and I saw Savelko's two hands glow in the -darkness with the same blue phosphorescence as the miraculous ikon. It -was terrible and offensive to see. - -Savelko said something, but I crouched in a corner of the stove, closed -my ears with my fingers, and remained silent. Then they crawled in -by my side, took vodka along, and for a long time they took turns in -telling me about true miracles and of the faith of man sacrilegiously -betrayed. And so I fell asleep while they talked. - -After two or three days, many priests and officials arrived, arrested -the ikon, dismissed the village elder from his post, and the priest, -too, was threatened with a law-suit. Then I believed the whole thing -had been a fraud, though it was hard for me to admit that it was done -for the purpose of getting linen from the women and some pennies from -the men. - -When I was six years old, Larion began to teach me the abcs in the -Church-tongue and when two winters later a school was opened in our -village, he sent me there. At first I grew somewhat apart from Larion. -I liked to study, and I took to my books zealously, so that when he -asked me my lessons, as sometimes happened, he would say, after hearing -me, - -"Fine, Motka." - -Once he said: - -"Good blood boils in you. It's plain your father was no fool." And I -asked, - -"But where is he?" - -"Who can know!" - -"Is he a peasant?" - -"All one can say for sure is that he was a man. His caste is unknown. -However, he could hardly have been a peasant. By your face and skin, -not to mention your character, he seems to have been from the gentry." - -Those casual words of his sank deep into my mind and they didn't do -me much good. When they called me a foundling at school, I balked and -shouted to my comrades: - -"You are peasant children, but my father is a gentleman!" - -I became very firm about this. One must protect oneself somehow -against insults, and I had no other protection in my mind. They began -to dislike me, to call me bad names, and I fought back. I was a strong -youngster and could fight easily. Complaints grew about me, and people -said to the sexton: - -"Quiet that bastard of yours!" - -And others without bothering to complain, pulled my ears to their -hearts' content. - -Then Larion said to me: - -"You may be a son of a general, Matvei, but that isn't of such great -importance. We are all born in the same way and therefore the honor is -the same for all." - -But it was too late. I was twelve years old at the time and felt -insults keenly. Something pulled me away from people and again I found -myself close to the sexton. All winter we wandered together in the -wood, catching birds, and I became worse in my studies. - -I finished school at thirteen, and Larion began to think what he should -do with me. I would go rowing with him in a boat, I at the oars and he -steering, and he led me in his thoughts over all the paths of human -fate, telling me of the various vocations in life. - -He saw me a priest, a soldier, an employee, and nowhere was it good for -me. - -"What should it be then, Motka?" he would ask. - -Then he would look at me and say, laughing, - -"Never mind, don't get frightened. If you don't fall down, you will -crawl out. Only avoid the military. That's a man's finish." - -In August, soon after the Day of Assumption, we went together to the -lake of Liubushin to catch sheat-fish. Larion was a bit drunk and he -had wine along with him. From time to time he sipped from the bottle, -cleared his throat and sang so that he could be heard over the whole -water. - -His boat was bad, it was small and unsteady. He made a sharp turn, the -bow dipped, and we both found ourselves in the water. It was not the -first time that such a thing happened, and I was not frightened. I rose -and saw Larion swimming at my side, shaking his head and saying to me: - -"Swim to the bank and I'll push the damned tub there." - -It was not far from the bank and the current was weak. I swam -tranquilly, when suddenly I felt as if something pulled at my feet, or -as if I had struck a cold current, and looking back, I saw that our -boat was floating bottom up, and Larion was not there. He was nowhere. - -Like a stone striking my head, terror hit my heart. A cramp seized me -and I sank to the bottom. - -An employee from the estate, Yegor Titoff, who was crossing the field, -saw how we capsized. He saw Larion disappear and when I began to drown, -Titoff was already on the bank undressing. He pulled me out, but Larion -was not found until night. - -His dear soul was extinguished, and immediately it became both dark and -cold for me. When they buried him, I was sick in bed, and I could not -escort the dear man to the cemetery. When I was up, the first thing -I did was to go to his grave. I sat there, and could not even weep, -so great was my sorrow. His voice rang in my memory, his words lived -again, but the man who used to lay his tender hand on my head was no -longer on this earth. Everything became strange and distant. I sat with -my eyes closed. Suddenly somebody picked me up. He took me by the hand -and picked me up. I looked and saw Titoff. - -"You have nothing to do here," he said. "Come." And he led me away. I -went with him. - -He said to me: - -"It seems you have a good heart, youngster, it remembers the good." - -But this did not make me feel any better. I was silent. Titoff -continued: - -"Even at the time when you were abandoned, I thought to myself, I shall -take the child to me, but I came too late. However, it seems it is -God's wish. Here He again puts your life into my hands. That means you -will come to live with me." - -It was all the same to me then, whether to live, not to live, how -to live or with whom.... Thus I passed from one point in my life to -another without realizing it myself. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -After a time I began to take interest in all that surrounded me. Titoff -was a silent man, tall in stature, with his head and cheeks shaved like -a soldier's, and he wore a long mustache. He spoke slowly and as if he -were afraid to say one word too many, or as if he were in doubt himself -of what he was saying. He held his hands in his pocket or crossed -them behind his back, as if he were ashamed of them. I knew that the -peasants of the village and even those of the neighboring district -hated him. Two years before, in the village of Mabina, they beat him -with a stake. They said that he always carried a revolver with him. - -His wife, Nastasia, was handsome, tall and slender. Her face was -bloodless, with two feverish, large eyes. She was often sick. Her -daughter, Olga, who was three years my junior, was also pale and thin. - -A great silence reigned about them. Their floor was covered with thick -carpet, and not a footstep could be heard. Even the clock on the wall -ticked inaudibly. The lamps, which were never extinguished, burned -before their holy images. There were prints stuck on the walls, showing -the Last Judgment and the Martyrdom of the Apostles and of Saint -Barbara. In one corner, on the low stove, a large cat, the color of -smoke, looked out of its green eyes on the surroundings and seemed to -guard the silence. - -In the midst of this awful stillness it took me a long time to forget -the songs of Larion and his birds. - -Titoff brought me to the office of the estate and showed me the books. -Thus I lived. It seemed to me that Titoff watched me and followed me -about in silence as if he expected something from me. I felt depressed -and unhappy. I was never gay, but now I became almost morose. I had no -one to speak to, and, moreover, I did not wish to speak to any one. -When Titoff or his wife asked me about Larion I did not answer, but -mumbled something. A feeling of unhappiness and sadness weighed upon -me. Titoff displeased me by the suspicious stillness of his life. - -I went almost daily to the church to help the watchman, Vlassi, and -also the new sexton, a handsome young man, who had been a school -teacher. He was not interested in his work, but he was a great friend -of the priest, whose hand he always kissed and whom he followed about -like a dog. He continually reproved me, for which he was in the wrong, -because I knew the holy service better than he did and always did -everything according to rule. - -It was at this time, when life became difficult for me, that I began to -love God. One day when I was placing the tapers in front of the image -of the Holy Virgin and her Child, before mass, I saw that they looked -at me with a grave and compassionate expression. I began to weep, and, -falling on my knees, I prayed for I do not know what--for Larion, no -doubt. I do not know how long I remained there, but I arose consoled, -my heart warm and animated. Vlassi was at the altar and he mumbled -something incomprehensible. I mounted the steps, and when I was near -him he looked at me. - -"You look very happy," he said. "Have you found a kopeck?" - -I knew why he asked that question, for I often found money on the -ground. But now these words left an unpleasant impression on me, as if -some one had hurt my heart. - -"I was praying to God," I said. - -"To which one?" he asked me. "We have more than a hundred here. And the -living One, the true One, who is not made of wood, where is He? Go and -find Him." - -I knew the value to attach to his words. Nevertheless, they appeared -offensive to me at this time. Vlassi was a decrepit old man, who could -hardly walk. His limbs stuck out at the knees and he always tottered as -if he were walking on a rope. He had not a tooth in his mouth, and his -dark face looked like an old rag, from which two wild eyes stuck out. -He had lost his reason and had commenced to rave even some time before -Larion's death. - -"I don't watch the church," he said. "I watch cattle. I was born a -shepherd and shall die a shepherd. Yes, soon I shall leave the church -for the fields." - -Every one knew that he had never watched cattle. - -"The church is a cemetery," he would say. "It is a dead place. I wish -to deal with something living. I must go and feed cattle. All my -ancestors have been shepherds, and I also up to my forty-second year." - -Larion used to make fun of him. One day he said to him laughingly: - -"In olden times there was a god of cattle who was called Voloss. -Perhaps he was your great-greatgrandfather." - -Vlassi questioned him about Voloss; then he said: - -"That's right. I have known that I was a god for a long time, only I am -afraid of the priest. Wait a little, sexton; don't you tell it to him. -When the right time comes I will tell him myself." - -It was impossible to get the idea out of his head. I knew that he was -crazy, yet he worried me. - -"Take care," I said to him. "God will punish you." - -And he muttered: "I am a god myself." - -Suddenly my foot caught on the carpet and I fell, and I interpreted -it as an omen. From that day I began to love passionately all that -pertained to the church. The ardor of my childish heart was so great -that everything became sacred for me--not only the images and the -gospels, but even the chandeliers and the censer, whose very coals -became precious in my eyes. I used to touch these objects with joy and -with a feeling of great respect. When I went up the steps of the altar -my heart would cease beating, and I could have kissed the flagstones. -I felt that I was under One who saw everything, directed my steps and -surrounded me with a supernatural force; who warmed my heart with a -dazzling and blinding light, and I saw only myself. At times I remained -alone in the darkness of the temple, but it was light in my heart; for -my God was there, and there was no place for childish troubles, nor -for the sufferings which surrounded me--that is to say, the human life -about me. The nearer one comes to God, the farther one is from man. -But, of course, I did not understand that at that time. - -I began to read all the religious works which fell into my hands. Thus -my heart became filled with the divine word. My soul drank avidly of -its exquisite sweetness, and a fountain of grateful tears opened within -me. Often I went to the church before the other faithful ones, and, -kneeling before the image of the Trinity, I wept lightly and humbly, -without thinking and without praying. I had nothing to ask of God and I -worshiped Him with complete self-forgetfulness. I remembered Larion's -words: - -"When you pray with your lips you pray to the air and not to God. God -thinks of the thoughts, not the words, like man." - -I did not even have thoughts. I knelt and sang in silence a joyful -song, happy in the thought that I was not alone in the world and that -God was near me and guarded me. That was a happy time for me, like a -calm and joyful holiday. I liked to remain alone in the church, when -the noise and the whisperings were over. Then I lost myself in the -stillness and rose up to the clouds, and from that height man and all -that pertained to man became more and more invisible to me. - -But Vlassi bothered me. He dragged his feet on the flagstones, he -trembled like the shadows of a tree shaken by the wind, and he muttered -with his toothless mouth: - -"I have nothing to do here. Is it my business? I am a god, the shepherd -of all earthly cattle. To-morrow I am going away into the fields. Why -have they exiled me here in these cold shadows? Is this my work?" - -He troubled me with his blasphemies, for I imagined that his profanity -sullied the purity of the temple and that God was angry at his being in -His house. - -People began to notice my piety and my religious zeal. When the priest -met me he grunted and blessed me in a special way, and I had to kiss -his hand, which was always cold and covered with sweat. Although I -envied his being initiated into the divine mysteries, I did not love -him and was even afraid of him. - -Titoff's little, dull eyes, like buttons, followed me with increasing -vigilance. Every one treated me carefully, as if I were made of glass. -More than once little Olga would ask me, in a low voice: - -"Will you be a saint?" - -She was timid even when I was kind, when I told her religious stories. -On winter nights I read aloud the Prologue and the Minea. Gusts of snow -blew over the country, groaning and beating against the walls. In the -room silence reigned and no one stirred. Titoff sat with head bowed, -so that his face could not be seen. Nastasia, who was sleepy, sat with -her eyes fixed on me. When the frost crackled she trembled and glanced -about her, smiling gently. When she did not understand the meaning of a -Slavic word she would ask me. Her sweet voice resounded for an instant, -and then again there was quiet. Only the flying snow sang plaintively, -wandering over the fields seeking repose. - -The holy martyrs, who fought for the Lord and celebrated His greatness -by their life and by their death, were especially dear to my soul. -I was touched also by the merciful and pious men who sacrificed -everything for love of their neighbors. But I did not understand those -who left the world in the name of God and went away to live in a desert -or in a cave. I felt that the devil was too powerful for the Anchorites -and the Stylites, that he made them flee before him. Larion had denied -the devil. Nevertheless, the life of the saints forced me to recognize -him. And, besides, the fall of man would be incomprehensible if one did -not admit the existence of the devil. Larion saw in God the one and -omnipotent Creator, but then from where came evil? According to the -life of the saints, the author of all evil is the devil. In this rôle -I accepted him. God, then, was the creator of cherries, and the devil -the creator of burrs; God the creator of nightingales and the devil -the creator of owls. However, although I accepted the devil, I did -not believe in him and was not afraid of him. He was useful to me in -explaining the existence of evil; but at the same time he bothered me, -for he lessened the majesty of God. - -I forced myself not to think of this problem, but Titoff continually -made me think of sin and of the power of the devil. When I read, he -questioned me curtly, without raising his eyes. - -"Matvei, what does that last word mean?" - -And I explained it. - -Then after a second of silence, he would say: - -"Where can I hide before Thy countenance? Where can I flee before Thy -wrath?" - -His wife would sigh deeply and look at him, still more frightened, as -if she expected something terrible. Olga blinked her blue eyes and -suggested: - -"In the forest." - -"Where can I flee before Thy wrath?" he repeated. - -This time I remember he took his hands from his pockets and twirled his -long mustache, and his eyebrows trembled. He hid his hands and said: - -"It was King David who asked, 'Where can I flee?' Yes, he was a king -and he was afraid. You see that the devil was stronger than he. He was -anointed of God and the devil conquered him. 'Where can I flee?' To -hell--that is certain. We lesser people, we have nothing to hope for if -the kings themselves go there." - -He frequently returned to this subject. I did not always understand his -words; nevertheless, they produced a disagreeable impression upon me. - -People began to speak more and more about my piety. One day Titoff said -to me: - -"Pray zealously for my whole family, Matvei. I beg of you, pray for us. -You will thus repay me for having gathered you to me and treated you -like a son." - -But what did that mean to me? My prayers were without object, like the -song of a bird which he pours out to the sun. Nevertheless, I began -to pray for him and for his family, and especially for little Olga, -who had become a very pretty young girl, sweet and tender. I borrowed -the words of the Psalms of David and all the other prayers which I -knew. I liked to repeat the sing-song and cadenced phrases, but from -the time when I said in praying for Titoff: "Lord, in Thy grace, have -pity on Thy servant, Yegor," my heart closed. The spring of my prayers -became dry, the serenity of my joys was disturbed. I was ashamed before -God and could not continue. Lowering my eyes before the countenances -of the holy saints I arose, overcome with a feeling of anger and -embarrassment. It troubled me. Why should I feel like that? I tried to -understand it, but could not, and I was sorry for the joy which had -been destroyed on account of this man. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -The people about me began to notice me, and I took notice of them, too. - -On holidays when I walked through the streets I was stared at with -much curiosity. Some greeted me earnestly while others mocked, but all -looked after me. - -"Here goes our prayer-book," was heard. "Say, Matvei, are you going to -become a saint?" - -"Don't laugh at him, friends; he is not a priest and he does not -believe in God for the sake of the money." - -"Have there not been peasants who became saints?" - -"Oh, we have all kinds of men, but that does not help us much." - -"Who said he is a peasant? He has got gentleman's blood in him--but -that's a secret." - -And thus they calked, and some praised and some jeered. - -As for myself, I was then in a peculiar state of mind. I wished to be -at peace with all and wanted all to love me. However, try as I would to -live up to it, their insults prevented me. - -Of all who persecuted me, Savelko Migun was the worst. He fell on his -knees when he saw me and prostrated himself, declaiming aloud: - -"Your Holiness, I bow to the ground before you. Pray for Savelko, I beg -of you. God may do the right thing by him then. Teach me how to please -the Lord God. Must I stop stealing, or must I steal more and burn him a -wax candle?" - -The crowds laughed at Savelko's jokes, but they made me feel queer and -hurt me. - -He would continue: - -"Oh, ye Orthodox, prostrate yourself before the Righteous One. He -fleeces the peasants in his office and then reads the gospel in church. -And God cannot hear how the peasants howl." - -I was sixteen and could easily have broken his face for his insults. -But instead, I took to avoiding him. When he noticed this he gave me -no leeway at all. He composed a song, which he sang in the streets on -holidays, accompanying himself with his balalaika. - - "Oh, the squires embrace the maidens, - And the maidens all grow big; - From these gentlemanly doings - Come out dirty cheats as children. - They are thrown upon the masters - Who refuse to feed them gratis; - And they put them in their office, - To the peasants' great misfortune." - -It was a long song and everybody was mentioned in it, but Titoff and -I had the biggest share of all. It got to such a point that when I -caught sight of Savelko with his little thin beard, his cap on his ear -and his bald head, I trembled all over. I felt like springing on him -and breaking him into bits. - -Though I was young, I could hold myself in with a strong hand. When he -walked behind me, jingling, I did not move a muscle to show that it was -hard to bear. I walked slowly and made believe I did not hear. - -I began to pray more zealously, for I felt that I had no protection -except prayers, which, however, were now filled with complaints and -bitter words. - -"Wherefore, O Lord, am I to blame that my father and mother abandoned -me and threw me like a kitten into the brush?" - -I could find no other sin in me. I saw men and women placed on this -earth without rhyme or reason; saw each one so accustomed to his -business that the custom became law. How was I to know right off why -and against whom this strange force is directed? - -However, I began to think things over, and I grew more and more -troubled as things became insufferable to me. - -Our landlord, Constantine Nicolaievitch Loseff, was rich and owned -much land, and he hardly ever came to our estate, which was considered -unlucky by the family. Somebody had strangled the landlord's mother, -his father had fallen from a horse and been killed, and his wife had -run away from him here. - -I only saw the landlord twice. He was a stout man, tall, wore -spectacles and had an officer's cape and cap, lined with red. They said -he held a high position under the Czar and that he was very learned and -wrote books. The two times he was on the estate he swore at Titoff very -thoroughly and even shook his fist in his face. - -Titoff was the one absolute power on the estate of Sokolie. There was -not much land, and only so much grain was sown as was necessary for the -household. The rest of the land was rented to the peasants. Later there -came an order that no more land should be rented and that flax should -be sown on the whole estate. A factory was being opened nearby. - -In addition to myself, there sat in a corner of the office Ivan -Makarovitch Judin. His soul was half dead and he was always drunk. He -had been a telegraph operator, but he had lost his position on account -of his drunkenness. He took care of the books, wrote the letters, made -the contracts with the peasants, and was remarkably silent. When he was -spoken to, he only nodded his head and coughed a little. At most he -answered, "All right." He was short and thin, but his face was round -and puffy, and his eyes could hardly be seen. He was entirely bald and -he walked on his tip-toes, silently and unsteadily, as the blind. On -the Feast of the Virgin of Kazin, the peasants made Judin so drunk with -vodka that he died. - -I was alone now in the office, did all the work, and received a salary -from Titoff of forty rubles a year. He gave me Olga as an assistant. - -I had noticed for a long time that the peasants walked around the -office as wolves around a trap. They see the trap, but they are hungry, -and the bait tempts them, so they begin to eat. - -When I was alone in the office and became acquainted with all the books -and plans, I realized, even with my poor understanding, that our whole -arrangement was nothing more than theft. The peasants were head over -ears in debt and worked, not for themselves, but for Titoff. I cannot -say that I was either very much surprised or ashamed at this discovery. -And even if I did understand now why Savelko swore at me and insulted -me, still I did not think it was right of him. Was it then I who had -originated this stealing? - -I saw that Titoff was not quite straight even with the landlord, and -that he stuffed his pockets as much as he dared. - -I became bolder toward him, for I realized that in some way I was -necessary to him. And now I understood why. I had to hide him, the -thief, from the Lord God. He now called me his "dear son," and his wife -did so too. They dressed me well, for which, of course, I was grateful. - -But my heart did not go out toward them, and my soul was not warmed by -their goodness. I became more and more friendly with Olga, however. I -liked her wistful smile, her low voice and her love of flowers. - -Titoff and his wife walked before God with sunken heads, like a team of -horses, and behind their timid glances seemed to be continually hiding -something which must have been even greater than theft. - -I did not like Titoff's hands. He always hid them in a manner which -made me suspicious. Perhaps those hands had strangled some one; perhaps -there was blood on them. They kept asking me, he as well as she: - -"Pray for our sins, Motia." - -One day I could stand it no longer. I asked them: - -"Are you then more sinful than others?" - -Nastasia sighed and went away, and he turned on his heel and did not -answer. - -In the house he was thoughtful and spoke very little, and then only on -business. He never swore at the peasants, but he was always haughty -with them, which was worse than swearing. He never conceded a point and -stood his ground as firmly as if he were sunk to the waist in the earth. - -"One should give in to them," I said to him once. - -"Never," he answered. "Not an iota must you give in, or you are lost." - -Another time he ordered me to count false, and I said to him: - -"You can't do that." - -"Why not?" - -"It is a sin." - -"It is not you who are forcing me to sin, but I you. Write as I tell -you. No one will ask any account of you, you are only my hand. Your -piety will not suffer by it; have no fear. For ten rubles a month -neither I nor anybody else can live honorably. Do you understand that?" - -"Oh, you scoundrel!" I said to myself. But aloud I said to him: "That -is quite enough. Things must end right here. If you don't stop this -swindling I will tell the village all about your deals." - -He pulled his mustache up to his nose, lifted his shoulders to his -ears, showed his teeth and stared at me with his round, bulging eyes. -We measured each other. - -"You will do that, really?" he said to me in a low voice. - -"Yes." - -Titoff burst out laughing, and it sounded as if some one had thrown -silver pieces on the ground. - -"All right, my holy one, that is all that I needed. From now on we will -manage this affair differently. We won't bother any more with kopecks. -We will deal with rubles. If the thief's dress is too tight, he becomes -honest." - -He went out, slamming the door so that the panes in the windows rattled. - -It seemed to me that Titoff was a little more cross after that. Still -I was not quite sure of it. But he left me in, peace from then on. - -He was a terrible miser, and though he did not deny himself anything, -nevertheless he knew how to value a penny. He ate well and was very -fond of women, and as he had the power in his hands, there was not a -woman in the village who dared to refuse him. He let the young girls -alone, and only went to the married women. He made my blood hot once or -twice. - -"What is the matter, Matvei?" he asked. "Are you timid? To take a woman -is like giving charity. In the country every woman yearns for love. -But the men are weak and worn out, and what can the women expect from -them? You are a strong, handsome young fellow; why not make love to the -women? You would get some pleasure out of it yourself." - -He followed every villainy, the low rascal. Once he asked me: - -"Do you think, Matvei, that a pious man is of much value in the eyes of -God?" - -I did not like such questions. "I don't know," I answered. - -He remained doubtful for a minute and then he said: - -"God led Lot out of Sodom and saved Noah; but thousands perished by -fire and water. Still it says, 'Thou shalt not kill.' Often it seems -to me that these thousands perished because among them there were a -few pious and virtuous people. God saw that despite the stringent laws -which He gave, there were several who could lead a righteous life. If -there had been no pious men in Sodom, God would have seen that it was -impossible to observe His commandments and He might have lightened -them without putting to death thousands of people. They call Him the -All-merciful One. But where is His mercy?" - -I did not understand then that this man was only seeking license to -sin. Nevertheless, the words angered me. - -"You are blaspheming," I said. "You are afraid of God, but you don't -love Him." - -He drew his hands out of his pockets, threw them behind his back, and -his face turned gray. It was plain that he was in great wrath. - -"Whether it is so or not, I don't know," he answered, "but it seems -to me that you pious ones use God as a ruler by which you mark off -the sins of others. Without such as you, God would have a hard time -measuring sins." - -He took no notice of me for a long time after that. But an insufferable -hatred rose in my soul against this man. I avoided him even more than -I did Savelko. If at night I mentioned his name in my prayers, an -ungovernable anger possessed me. It was at this time that I said my -first spontaneous prayer: - -"I do not wish to seek grace for a thief, O Lord. I ask that he be -punished. May he not rob the poor without being punished." - -And I prayed to God so ardently that Titoff be punished that I grew -frightened at the terrible fate that awaited him. - -Soon after this I bad another encounter with Migun. He came to the -office for lime-bast,[1] when I happened to be alone. I asked him: - -"Why do you always make fun of me, Savel?" - -He showed his teeth and stared at me with his piercing eyes. - -"I haven't much business here," he said. "I only came for lime-bast." - -My legs trembled beneath me and my hands clenched of themselves. I -clutched his throat and shook him lightly. - -"What have I done?" - -He was not frightened, nor was he angry. He simply took my hand -and pushed it from his throat as if it were he, not I, who was the -stronger. "When you are choking some one, he cannot speak well," he -said. "Let me alone," he continued; "I have received beatings enough, -and I don't need yours. Besides, you mustn't strike any one. It is -against the commandments." - -He spoke quietly and mockingly, in a light tone. I shouted: - -"What do you want here?" - -"Some lime-bast." - -[Footnote 1: A vegetable fiber made from the bark of the lime tree.] - -I saw that I could make no headway with him by words, and my anger was -already gone. I now only felt hurt and cold. - -"You are all beasts," I said. "Can you make fun of a man because his -parents abandoned him?" - -He threw his words at me as if they were little stones: - -"Don't be a hypocrite. We know you by your actions. You eat stolen -bread and others suffer want." - -"You lie!" I said. "I work for my bread." - -"Without work you can't even steal a chicken. That is an old story." - -He looked at me with a devilish smile in his eyes and said pityingly: - -"Oh, Matvei, what a good child you used to be. And now you have become -learned, despite God, and like all thieves in our country, you found -a religion based on God's truth that all men have not equally long -fingers." - -I threw him out of the office. I did not want to understand his play on -words, for I considered myself a true servant of God and valued my own -opinion more than any one else's. - -I felt strange and fearful, as if the strength of my soul was -vanishing. I had not sunk so low as to whine before God against man, -for I was no Pharisee for all that I was a fool. I knelt before the -holy Virgin of Abalatzk and looked up at her countenance and at her -hands, which were uplifted to heaven. The little fire in the holy lamp -flickered and a faint shadow spread over the ikon. The same shadow fell -on my heart and something strange and invisible and oppressive rose up -betwixt God and myself. I lost all joy in prayer, and I became wretched -and even Olga was no longer a comfort to me. - -But she looked at me all the more kindly. I was eighteen at this time, -a well developed youth, with red curly hair and a pale face. I wanted -to come nearer her, yet was embarrassed, for I was innocent before -women then. The women in the village laughed at me for it, and it even -seemed to me at times that Olga herself smiled at me in a queer way. -More than once the enticing thought came to me: "There, that's my wife." - -Day in, day out, I sat with her in the office in silence. When she -asked me some questions about the business I answered, and in that lay -our whole conversation. - -She was slender and white, like a young birch, and her eyes were blue -and thoughtful. To me she seemed pretty and tender in her quiet, -mysterious wistfulness. - -Once she asked me: - -"What makes you so sad, Matvei?" - -I had never spoken about myself with any one before, nor had ever -wished to. But here suddenly my heart opened and I poured out all my -misery to her. I told her of the shame of my birth, of the abuse that -I suffered for it, and of the loneliness and wretchedness of my soul, -and of her father. I told her everything. I did not do it to complain. -It was only to unburden myself of my inmost thoughts, of which I had -amassed quite a quantity--all worthless, I suppose. - -"I had better enter a monastery," I ended. - -She became depressed, hung her head and did not answer. I was pleased -at her distress, but her silence hurt me. Three days later she said to -me softly: - -"It is wrong to watch people so much. Each one lives for himself. To be -sure, now you are alone, but when you will have your own family, you -will need no one and you will live like the rest, for yourself, in your -own house and home. As for my father, don't judge him. I see that no -one loves him, but I can't see wherein he is worse than the rest. Where -does one see love anyway?" - -Her words consoled me. I always did everything impetuously, and so -here, too, I burst forth: - -"Would you marry me?" - -She turned and whispered: - -"Yes." - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -It was done. The next day I told Titoff, just the way it happened. - -He smiled, stroked his mustache and began again to torture me. - -"You want to become my son. The way is open for you, Matvei; it is the -will of God and I make no objections. You're a serious, modest, healthy -young man. You pray for us, and in every way you are a treasure. I say -that without flattery. But in order to have enough to live on, one must -understand business, and your leanings that way are very weak. That's -the first thing. The second, you will be called to military service in -two years and you will have to go. Should you have some money saved up -by then, say some five hundred rubles, you might buy yourself off. I -could manage that for you. But without money you will have to go and -Olga will remain here, neither wife nor widow." - -He struck me in the heart with these dull words. His mustache trembled -and a green fire burned in his eyes. I pictured military life to -myself. It was terrible and antipathetic to me. What kind of a soldier -would I make? The very fact that I would have to live with others in -the barracks was enough, and then the drinking and the swearing and -the brawls! Everything about the service seemed inhuman to me. Titoff's -words crushed me. - -"That means," I said to him, "that I become a monk." - -Titoff laughed. - -"It is too late. They don't make you a monk right away, and novices are -recruited as well as laymen. No, Matvei, there is no way to bribe fate -but with money." - -"Then give me the money," I said to him; "you have enough." - -"Aha," he said, "what a lucky thought of yours! Only, how would I fare -by it? Perhaps I earned my money by heavy sins; perhaps I even sold my -soul to the devil for it? While I wallow in sin you lead a righteous -life. And you want to continue it at the expense of my sinning. It is -easy for a righteous one to attain heaven if a sinner carry him in -on his back. However, I refuse to be your horse. Better do your own -sinning. God will forgive you, for you have already merited it." - -I looked at Titoff and he seemed to have suddenly grown yards taller -than I, and I was crawling somewhere at his feet. I understood that he -was making fun of me, and I stopped the discussion. - -In the evening I told Olga what her father said. Tears shone in the -girl's eyes, and a little blue vein beat; near her ear. Its sad beating -found an echo in my heart. Olga said, smiling: "So things aren't going -as we want them to?" - -"Oh, yes, they will go," I said. - -I said these words thoughtlessly, but with them I gave my word of honor -to her and to myself, and I could not break it. - -That day an unclean life began for me. It was a dark, drunken period, -and my soul flew hither and thither like a pigeon in a cloud of smoke. -I was sorry about Olga and I wanted her for my wife, for I loved -her. But above all I saw that Titoff was more powerful than I, and -stronger-willed; and it was insufferable to my pride. I had despised -his villainous ways and his wretched heart, when suddenly I discovered -that something strong lived in him, which looked down on me and -overpowered me. - -It became known in the village that I had proposed and had been -refused. The girls tittered, the women stared at me, and Savelko made -new jokes. All this enraged me and my soul became dark within. - -When I prayed I felt as if Titoff were behind me, breathing on the nape -of my neck, and I prayed incoherently and irreverently. My joy in God -left me and I thought only of my own affairs. What will become of me? - -"Help me, O Lord," I prayed. "Teach me not to wander from Thy path and -not to lose my soul in sin. Thou art strong and merciful. Deliver Thy -servant from evil and strengthen him against temptation, that he may -not succumb to the wiles of his enemies nor grow to doubt the strength -of Thy love for Thy servant." - -Thus I brought God down from the height of His indescribable beauty and -made Him do service as a help in my petty affairs, and having lowered -God, I myself sunk low. - -Olga in her sorrow shrunk from day to day, like a burning wax candle. I -tried to imagine her living with some one else, but could not place any -one beside her except myself. By the strength of his love, man creates -another in his image, and so I thought that the girl understood my -soul, read my thoughts and was as indispensable to me as I to myself. -Her mother became even more depressed than before. She looked at me -with tears in her eyes and sighed. But Titoff hid his ugly hands, -walked up and down the room and circled silently around me like a raven -over a dying dog, who is about to pick out his eyes the moment death -came. - -A month passed and I was at the same point where I left off. I felt as -if I were on the edge of a steep ravine which I did not know how to -cross. I was disgusted and heavy-hearted. Once Titoff walked up to me -in the office and said in a whisper: - -"You have an opportunity now. Take it if you want to be a man." - -The opportunity was of such a nature that if it succeeded the peasants -would lose much, the estate profit a bit and Titoff make about two -hundred rubles. He explained it and asked: - -"Well, you don't dare?" - -Had he asked it in some other way, I might not have fallen into his -clutches, but his words frenzied me. - -"Not dare to steal? You don't need daring for that, but just meanness. -All right, let's steal." - -Here he laughed, the scoundrel, and asked: - -"What about the sin?" - -"I'll take care of my own sins," I answered. - -"Good," he said, "and know that from now on each day brings you nearer -the wedding." - -He enticed me, fool that I was, like a wolf with a lamb in a trap. - -And so it commenced. I wasn't stupid in business, and I had always -had enough audacity in me. We began to rob the peasants as if we were -playing a match. I followed each move he made with a bolder one. We -said not a word, only looked at each other. There was mockery in his -eyes and wrath burned in mine. He was the victor, and since I lost all -to him, I did not want to be outdone in wickedness by him. I falsified -the weights in measuring flax, I did not mark the fines when the -peasants' cattle strayed on the landlord's pastures, and I cheated the -peasants out of every kopeck I could. But I did not count the money nor -gather in the rubles myself. I let everything go to Titoff, which, of -course, did not make things easier either for me or the peasants. - -In a word, I was as if possessed, and my heart was heavy and cold. -When I thought of God I burned with shame. Nevertheless, I threw -reproaches at Him more than once. - -"Why dost Thou not keep me from falling with Thy strong arm? Why dost -Thou try me beyond my strength? Dost Thou not see, O Lord, how my soul -is being destroyed?" - -There were times when Olga seemed strange to me, and when I looked at -her and thought, of her hostilely. - -"For your sake, unhappy one, I am selling my soul." - -After such words I grew ashamed of myself before her and became kind -and gentle--as gentle as possible. - -But, of course, it was not out of pity for myself nor for the peasants -that I suffered and gnashed my teeth in wrath; but for sheer chagrin -that I could not conquer Titoff and that I had to act according to his -will. When I remembered the words he often used against pious people, I -became cold all over; and he saw the situation through and through and -triumphed. - -"Well, my holy one," he said, "it is time to begin thinking of your own -nest. You will be too crowded here when you have a wife. You will have -children, of course." - -He called me "holy one." I did not answer. He called me that more and -more often; but his daughter became all the more loving, all the more -tender to me. She understood clearly how heavy my heart was. - -Then Titoff begged from the landlord, Loseff, when he went to pay his -respects to him, a little piece of land for me. They gave him a pretty -place behind the manor building, and he began to build us a little -house. - -And I continued to oppress and to cheat. - -Things began to move quickly. Our pockets swelled. The little house -began to be built and shone bright in the sun, like a golden cage for -Olga. Soon the roof was to be put on, and then the stove had to be -built, and in the fall it would be finished for us to move into. - -One evening I was going home from the village of Jakimoffka, where I -had gone to take the cattle from some peasants for their debts. Just -as I stepped out of the wood which lay before the village, I saw my -house in the sunset burning like a torch. At first I thought it was the -reflection of the sun surrounding it with red rays which reached up to -heaven. But then I saw the people running and heard the fire crackle -and snap, and my heart suddenly broke. I saw that God was my enemy. Had -I had a stone then, I would have thrown it against heaven. I saw how my -thievish work was going up in smoke and ashes, and saw myself as if on -fire, and said: - -"Thou desirest to show me, O Lord, that I have burnt my soul to dust -and ashes. Thou desirest to show me that. I do not believe it; I do not -wish Thy humiliation. It was not through Thy will that it burned but -because the peasants through hatred of me and Titoff set fire to it. -I do not wish to believe in Thy wrath, not because I am not worthy of -it, but because this wrath is not worthy of Thee. Thou didst not wish -to lend Thy help to the weak in the hour of his need, so that he could -withstand sin. Thus, Thou art the guilty One, not I. As in a dark wood, -which was already full grown, so I stepped into sin. How could I then -have kept myself free from it?" - -But these foolish words could neither console me nor make me right. -They only awoke in my soul an evil obstinacy. My house burned down more -quickly than my wrath. For a long time I stood on the edge of the wood, -leaning against the trunk of a tree and haggled with God, while Olga's -white face, bathed in tears and drawn with pain, rose up before my -eyes. And I spoke to God boldly, as to one familiar: - -"Thou art strong. So will I be also. Thus it should be for justice' -sake." - -The fire was quenched and all became quiet and dark. Only a few flames -thrust their tongues out into the night, like the sobs of a child after -it has stopped crying. - -The night was cloudy and the river shone like a flaming sword which -some one had lost in the field. I could have clutched at this sword and -swung it high in the air to hear it ring over the earth. - -Toward midnight I reached the village. At the door of the house were -Olga and her father. They awaited me. - -"Where were you?" Titoff asked. - -"I stood on the hill and watched the fire." - -"Why didn't you come to put it out?" - -"Can I perform miracles? Would the fire have gone out if I had spat on -it?" - -Olga's eyes were swollen with tears and she was black with smoke and -soot. I laughed when I saw her. - -"You worked hard?" I asked. - -Her eyes filled with tears. Titoff said gloomily: - -"I don't know what will happen now." - -"You must begin the building anew," I said. - -Such wrath took possession of my soul then that I could have dragged -the logs myself and have begun building unaided, until the house should -be ready again. If it was not possible to go against the will of God, -it was at least possible to find out whether God was for me or against -me. - -And again the roguery began. What ruses and wiles I thought out! -Formerly I spent the nights in praying, but now I lay without sleep and -worried how I could put one more ruble into my pocket. I threw myself -entirely into these thoughts, although I knew how many tears flowed on -account of me; how many times I stole the bread from the mouths of -hungry ones; and how, perhaps, little children were starving to death -on account of my avarice. Now, at the memory of it, I feel abhorrence -and disgust and I laugh bitterly at my foolishness. - -The faces of the saints no longer looked down at me with pity and -goodness, as before. But instead they spied on me, as Olga's father -did. Once I even stole a half ruble from the office of the village -elder. So far had it gone with me. - -Once something special happened to me. Olga went up to me, put her -delicate arms on my shoulders, and said: - -"Matvei, as surely as God's alive, I love you more than anything in the -world." - -She spoke these holy words wonderfully simply, as a child would say, -"Mother." Like the hero in the fairy tale, I felt myself grow strong, -and from that hour she became indescribably dear to me. It was the -first time she had said she loved me, and it was the first time that -I had embraced her and kissed her, so that I lost myself in her and -forgot myself--as when I used to pray with all my heart. - -Toward October our house was finished. It looked like a plaid where the -logs showed blackened by the fire. Soon we celebrated the wedding, and -my father-in-law became duly drunk and laughed with a full throat, like -Satan at some success. My mother-in-law was silent and smiled at us -through her tears. - -"Stop crying!" Titoff roared at her. "What a son-in-law we have! Such a -righteous one!" - -Then he swore at her thoroughly. - -We had important guests--the priest was there, of course, and the land -commissioner, and two district elders, and various other pike among the -carp. The village people had assembled under our windows, and among -them Savelko made himself popular, for he was gay up to his last days. -I sat at the window and heard the jingling of his balalaika and his -thin voice pierced my ear. For though he was afraid to make his jokes -too loud, still I heard him sing distinctly: - - "Hurry and drink till you burst, - Eat yourself full till you split." - -His jokes amused me, though I had something else to think about then. -Olga nestled up to me and whispered: - -"If only all this eating and drinking were over!" - -The gluttony went against her, and to me, too, the sight of it was -disgusting. - -When we were alone we burst into tears, sitting and embracing each -other on the bed; we wept and laughed together at our great unforeseen -happiness in our marriage. All night we did not sleep, but kissed each -other and planned how we would live with each other. We lit the candle -in order to see each other better. - -"We will live so that all will love us. It is good to be with you, -Matvei." - -We were drunk with our unutterable happiness, and I said to Olga: - -"May the Lord strike me dead, Olga, if on account of me you should weep -other tears." - -But she said to me: - -"I will bear everything from you. I will be your mother and your -sister, my lonely one." - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -We lived together in a dream. I worked automatically, saw nothing and -did not wish to see anything. I hurried home to my wife and walked with -her in the fields and in the woods. - -My past came back to me. I caught birds and our home became light and -airy with the cages which were hung on the walls and the singing of the -birds. My gentle wife loved them, and when I came home she told me how -the tomtit behaved and how the client-finch sang. - -In the evening I read Minea or the Prologue, but more often I spoke to -my wife of my childhood and of Larion and Savelko; how they sang songs -to the Lord and how they talked about Him. I told her about crazy old -Vlassi, who was dead by this time. I told her everything that I knew, -and it seemed that I knew very much about man and birds and fish. I -cannot describe my happiness in words, for a man who has never known -happiness and only enjoys it for a little time, never can describe it. - -We went together to church and stood next to each other in a corner -and prayed in unison. I offered prayers of thanks to God in order to -praise Him, though not without secret pride, for it seemed to me that -I had conquered God's might and forced Him, against His will, to make -me happy. He had given in to me and I praised Him for it: - -"Thou hast done well, O Lord," I said, "but it is only just and right, -what Thou hast done." - -Oh, the miserable paganism of it! - -The winter passed like one long day of joy. One day Olga confided to -me that she was to become a mother. It was a new happiness for us. My -father-in-law murmured something indistinctly and my mother-in-law -looked with pity at my wife. - -I began to think of bettering my condition a little; I decided to have -a beehive, and I called it "Larion's Garden," so that it should bring -me luck. Also, I planned to have a vegetable garden, and to breed -song-birds, and I thought of doing things which would bring no harm to -man. One day Titoff said to me, quite harshly: - -"You have become so sugar-coated, Matvei; see that you do not get sour. -You will have a child in the summer. Have you forgotten that?" - -I had already wished to tell him the truth as I understood it then, so -I said to him: - -"I have sinned as much as I wished. I have become like you in -sins--just as you desired. But to become worse than you, that I will -not." - -"I do not understand what you mean," he answered. "I only want to -explain to you that seventy-two rubles a year for a man and a family -is not much; and I will not permit you to squander my daughter's -dowry. You must consider things well. Your wisdom is in reality hatred -of me because I am more clever than you. But that will help neither you -nor me. Each one is a saint just so long as the devil doesn't catch -him." - -I could have beaten him well, but out of consideration for Olga I -restrained myself. - -In the village it was known that I did not get on well with my -father-in-law, and the people began to look at me in a friendlier way. -As for myself, happiness had made me more gentle, and Olga, too, was -mild and good of heart. - -In order to save the peasants from loss I began to give in to them here -and there; helped one and spoke up for another. The village is like a -glass house, where every one can look in, and so pretty soon Titoff -said to me: - -"You again wish to bribe God." - -I decided to drop my work in the office and said to my wife: - -"I earn six rubles a month, and with my birds I can make more." - -But the poor child became sad. "Do whatever you want," she answered, -"only let us not become beggars. I am sorry for my father," she added. -"He wanted to do the best by us, and has taken many sins upon his soul -for our sakes." - -"Ah, my dear one," I thought, "his well-wishing weighs heavily enough -on me." - -Some days later I told my father-in-law that I was going to leave the -office. - -"To become a soldier?" he asked, smiling ironically. - -I was hurt to the quick. I felt that he was ready to do anything -against me, and it would not be difficult for him to harm me, -considering who his acquaintances were. If I became a soldier I would -be lost. Even for the love he bore his daughter he would not save me. - -My hands became more and more tied. My wife wept in secret and went -about with red eyes. - -"What is the matter, Olga?" I asked her. - -And she answered: "I do not feel well." - -I remembered the oath I had made to her, and I became ashamed and -embarrassed. One step and my problem would be settled, but I pitied the -beloved woman. Had I not had Olga on my hands I would have even become -a soldier to get out of Titoff's clutches. - -Toward the end of June a son was born to us, and again for some time -I was as if dazed. The travail was difficult, Olga screamed, and my -heart almost burst with fear. Titoff looked into the room gloomily, -though most of the time he stood in the court and trembled. He leaned -against the staircase, wrung his hands, let his head hang and muttered -to himself: - -"She will die. My whole life was useless. O Lord, have mercy! When you -shall have children, Matvei, then you will know my pain and you will -understand my life; and you will cease to curse others for their sins." - -At this moment I really pitied him. I walked up and down the court and -thought: - -"Again Thou threatenest me, O Lord. Again Thy hand is raised against -me. Thou shouldst give me time to better myself and to find the -straight path. Why art Thou so miserly with Thy grace? Is it not in Thy -goodness that all Thy strength and power lie?" - -When I remember these words now I grow ashamed at my foolishness. - -My child was born and my wife became changed. Her voice was louder, -her body taller, and in her attitude toward me there was a change, -too. She counted every bite she gave me, although she was not exactly -stingy. She gave alms less and less often and always reminded me of the -peasants' debts to us. Even if it were only five rubles, she thought it -worth while to remind me of it. At first I thought, "that will pass." - -I became more and more interested in the breeding of my birds. I went -twice a month to town with my cages and brought five rubles or more -each time I returned. We had a cow and a dozen hens. What more did we -want? - -But Olga's eyes had an unpleasant light in them. When I brought her a -gift from town she reproached me: - -"Why did you do that? You should rather have saved the money." - -It was hard to bear, and in order to get over it, I worked the harder -among my birds. I went into the woods, laid the net and the snares, -stretched myself out on the ground, whistled low and thought. My soul -was quiet; not a wish stirred in me. A thought arose, moved my heart -and vanished again into the unknown, as a stone sinks into the sea. It -left ripples on my soul; they were feelings about God. - -At such times I looked upon the clear sky, the blue space, the woods -clothed in golden autumn garments or in silvery winter treasure, and -the river, the fields and the hills, the stars and the flowers, and saw -them as God. All that was beautiful was of God and all that was of God -was related to the soul. - -But when I thought of man, my heart started as a bird does when -frightened in its sleep. I was perplexed and I thought about life. I -could not unite the great beauty of God with the dark, poverty-stricken -life of man. The luminous God was somewhere far off, in His own -strength, in His own pride. And man, separated from Him, lived in -wretchedness and want. - -Why were the children of God sacrificed to misery and hunger--Why were -they lowered and dragged to the earth as worms in the mud? Why did God -permit it? How could it give Him joy to see this degradation of His own -work? - -Where was the man who saw God and His beauty? The soul of man is -blinded through the black misery of the day. To be satisfied is -considered a joy; to be rich a happiness. Man looks for the freedom to -sin; but to be free from sin, that is unknown to him. Where is there in -him the strength of fatherly love, where the beauty of God? Does God -exist? Where is the God-like? - -Suddenly I felt a hazy intuition, a slight thought. It encircled and -hid everything. My soul became empty and cold, like a field in winter. -At this time, I did not dare express my thoughts in words, but even -if they did not appear before me clothed in words, still I felt their -power and dreaded them, and was afraid, as a little child in a dark -cave. I jumped up, took my hunting traps with me, and hurried from the -house. To rid myself of my sickly fear, I sang as I hurried along. - -The people in the village laughed at me. A catcher of birds is not -especially respected in the country, and Olga sighed heavily many -times; for it seemed to her, too, that my occupation was something to -be ashamed of. My father-in-law gave me long lectures, but I did not -answer. I waited for autumn. Perhaps I would draw a lucky number and -not have to serve in the military, and so escape this terrible abyss. - -My wife became with child again, and her sadness increased. - -"What is the matter, Olga?" I asked. - -At first she evaded the question and made believe that nothing was -troubling her. But one day she embraced me and said: - -"I shall die, Matvei--I shall die in childbirth." - -I knew that women often talk thus, still I was frightened. I tried to -comfort her, but she would not listen to me. - -"You will remain alone again," she said, "beloved by none. You are so -difficult and so haughty toward all. I ask you for the sake of the -children, don't be so proud. We are all sinners, before God, and you -also." - -She spoke this way often to me, and I was wretched with pity and fear -for her. - -As to my father-in-law, I had made a sort of truce with him, and he -immediately made use of it in his own way: - -"Here, Matvei, sign this," or "Do not write that." - -Things were coming to a climax. We were, close to the recruiting time, -and a second child was soon expected. The recruits were making holiday -in the village. They called me out, but I refused to go, and they broke -my windows for me. - -The day came when I had to go to town to draw my lot. Olga was -already afraid at this time to leave the house, and my father-in-law -accompanied me and during the whole way he impressed it upon me what -trouble he had taken for me, how much money he had spent and how -everything had been arranged for my benefit. - -"Perhaps it is all in vain," I said. - -And so it was. My number came along the last, and I was free. Titoff -could hardly believe my luck and he laughed at me gloomily. - -"It seems really that God is with you." - -I did not answer, but I was unspeakably happy. My freedom meant -everything to me--everything that oppressed my soul. And above all, it -meant freedom from my dear father-in-law. - -At home Olga's joy was great. She wept and laughed, the dear one; -praised and caressed me as if I had killed a bear. - -"God be praised," she said; "now I can die in peace." - -I poked fun at her, but at the bottom of my heart I felt badly, for I -knew that she believed in her death--a ruinous belief, which destroys -the life force in man. - -Three days later her travail began. For two long days she suffered -horrible agony, and on the third day it was ended, after giving birth -to a still-born child--ended as she had believed, my dear, sweet one. - -I do not remember the burial, for I was as if blind and deaf for some -time afterward. It was Titoff who woke me. I was at Olga's grave, and -I can see him now as he stood before me and looked into my face, and -said: - -"So, Matvei, it is for the second time that we meet near the dead. Here -our friendship was born. Here it should be strengthened anew." - -I looked about me as if I had found myself on earth for the first -time. The rain drizzled, a mist surrounded everything, in which the -bare trees swayed and the crosses on the tombstones swam and vanished. -Everything looked dressed, garbed in cold, and in a piercing dampness -which was difficult to breathe, as if the rain and the mist had sucked -up all the air. - -"What do you want? Go away from here," I said to Titoff. - -"I want you to understand my pain. Perhaps because I hindered you from -living out your own life God has now punished me by taking away my -daughter." - -The earth under my feet was melting and turned into sticky mud, which -seemed to drag down my feet. I clutched him, threw him on the ground as -if he were a sack of bran. - -"Damn you!" I shouted. - -A mad, wild period began for me. I could not hold my head up. I was as -if struck down by some strong hand and lay stretched out powerless on -the ground. My heart was full of pain and I was outraged with God. I -looked up at the holy images and hurried away as fast as I could, for -I wanted to quarrel, not to repent. I knew that according to the law I -had to do penance and should have said: - -"Thy will be done, O Lord. Thy hand is heavy, but righteous; Thy wrath -is great yet beneficent." - -My conscience did not let me say such words. I remained standing, lost -in my thoughts, and was unable to find myself. - -"Has this blow fallen upon me," I thought, "because I doubted Thy -existence in secret?" - -This thought terrified me and I found excuses for myself: - -"It was not Thy existence that I doubted, but Thy mercy; for it seemed -to me that we are all abandoned by Thee without help and without -guidance." - -My soul was unbearably tortured; I could not sleep; I could do nothing. -At night dark shadows tried to strangle me. Olga appeared before me. My -heart was overcome with fear and I had no more strength to live. - -I decided to hang myself. - -It was night. I lay dressed on my bed. I glanced about me. I could see -my poor, innocent wife before me, her blue eyes shining with a quiet -light and calling me. The moon shone through the window and its bright -reflection lay upon the floor and only increased the darkness in my -soul. - -I jumped up, took the rope from my bird snare, hammered a nail into the -beam of the roof, made a noose and fixed the chair. I had already taken -off my coat and tom off my collar, when suddenly I saw a little face -appear indistinctly and mysteriously on the wall. I could have screamed -with fear, though I understood that it was my own face which looked -back at me from Olga's round mirror. I looked insane--so distracted and -wretched, with my hair wild, my cheeks sunken in, my nose sharp, my -mouth half open as with asthma, and my eyes agonized, full of a deep, -great pain. - -I pitied this human face; I pitied it for the beauty that had gone out -of it, and I sat down on the bench and wept over myself, as a child who -is hurt. After those tears the noose seemed something to be ashamed of, -like a joke against myself. And in wrath I tore it down and threw it -into the corner of the room. Death was also a riddle, but I had not yet -answered the riddle of life! - -What should I do? Some more days passed. It was as if I were seeking -peace. I must do penance, I thought, and I gritted my teeth and went to -the priest. - -I visited him one Sunday evening, just as he and his wife were at table -drinking tea. Four children sat around them. Drops of sweat shone on -the dark face of the priest, as scales on a fish. - -"Sit down," he said, good-naturedly, "and drink some tea with us." - -The room was warm and dry; everything was clean and in order. It -occurred to me how negligent this priest was in the performance of his -church duties, and the thought came to me, "This, then, is his church." - -I was not sufficiently humble. - -"Well, Matvei, you suffer?" the priest asked. - -"Yes," I answered. - -"Ah, then you must say the Forty-Day prayers. Does she appear in dreams -to you?" - -"Yes." - -"Then only the Forty-Day prayer will help you. That is certain." - -I remained silent. I could not speak before the wife of the priest. I -did not like her. She was a large, stout, short-winded woman, with a -broad, fat face. She lent money on interest. - -"Pray earnestly," the priest said to me. "And do not eat your heart. It -is a sin against the Lord. He knows what He does." - -"Does He really know?" I asked. - -"Certainly. Oh, oh, my young man, I know well that you are proud toward -people, but do not dare to carry your pride against the laws of God. -You will be punished a hundredfold more severely. This sour stuff which -ferments in you comes from the time of Larion, does it not? I know the -heresies which he committed when he was drunk--remember this!" - -Here the priest's wife interrupted: - -"They should have sent that Larion to a monastery, but the father was -too good and did not even complain about him." - -"That is not true," I answered. "He did complain, but not on account -of his opinions, but because of his negligence, for which the father -himself was to blame." - -We began to quarrel. First he reproached me for my insolence, and then -he began talking about things which I knew just as well as he, but the -meaning of which, in his anger, he changed. And then they both began, -he as well as his wife, to insult me. - -"You are both rascals," they cried, "you and your father-in-law! You -have robbed the church. The swampy field belonged to the church from -time immemorial, and that is why God has punished you." - -"You are right," I said. "The swampy field was taken from you unjustly. -But you yourself had taken it away from the peasants." - -I rose and wanted to go. - -"Stop!" cried the priest, "and the money for the Forty-Day prayer?" - -"It is not necessary," I answered. - -I went out and thought: "Here you have found comfort for your soul, -Matvei." - -Three days later, Sasha, my little son, died. He had mistaken arsenic -for sugar, and eaten it. - -His death made no impression on me. I had become cold and indifferent -to everything. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -I decided to go to a town, where an arch-bishop lived--a pious, learned -man, who disputed continually with the Old Believers about the true -faith and was renowned for his wisdom. I told my father-in-law that I -was going away and that he could have my house and all that I possessed -for a hundred rubles. - -"No," he answered, "that is not the way to do business. You must sign -me a note for half a year for three hundred rubles." - -I signed it, ordered my passport and began my trip. I walked on foot, -for I thought that thus the confusion in my soul would subside. But -although I walked to do penance, still my thoughts were not with God. I -was afraid and angry with myself. My thoughts were distorted and they -fell apart like worn-out cloth. The sky was dark above me. - -With great difficulty I reached the Archbishop. A servant, a pretty, -delicate youngster, who received the visitors, would not let me enter. -Four times he sent me back, saying: - -"I am the secretary. You must give me three rubles." - -"I won't give you a three-kopeck piece," I said. - -"Then I won't let you in." - -"All right. Then I'll go in myself." - -He saw that I was determined not to give in to him. - -"Well, then, come in," he said. "I was only joking. You are a funny -fellow." - -He led me into a little room, where a gray old man sat coughing in a -corner of a divan, dressed in a green cassock. His face was wrinkled -and his eyes were very stern and set deep in his forehead. - -"Well," I thought, "he can tell me something." - -"What do you want?" he asked me. - -"My soul is troubled, father." - -The secretary stood behind me and whispered: - -"You must say 'your reverence.'" - -"Send the servant away," I said. "It is difficult for me to speak when -he is here." - -The Archbishop looked at me, bit his lip and ordered: - -"Go behind the door, Alexei. Well, what have you done?" - -"I doubt God's mercy," I answered. - -He put his hand on his forehead, looked at me for some time and then -muttered in a singing voice: "What? What's that? You fool!" - -There was no need to insult me, and perhaps he did not mean it in that -way. Our superiors insult people more out of habit and foolishness than -from ill will. I said to him: - -"Hear me, your reverence." - -I sat down on a chair. But the old man motioned with his hands and -shouted: - -"Stand up! Stand up! You should kneel before me, impious one!" - -"Why should I kneel? If I am guilty, I should kneel before God, not -before you." - -He became enraged. "Who am I? What am I to you? What am I to God?" - -I was ashamed to quarrel with him on account of a bagatelle, so I -knelt. He threatened me with his finger and said: - -"I will teach you to respect the clergy!" - -I lost my desire to talk with him, but still, before the desire had -entirety gone, I began to speak, and I forgot his presence. For the -first time in my life I expressed my thoughts in words, and I was -astonished at myself. Suddenly I heard the old man cry out: - -"Keep still, wretched one!" - -I felt as if I had suddenly come up against a wall while running. He -stood over me, shaking his hands threateningly at me, and muttered: - -"Do you know what you are saying, you crazy fool? Do you appreciate -your blasphemies, wretched one? You lie, heretic! You did not come to -do penance. You came as a messenger from the devil to tempt me!" - -I saw that it was not wrath, but fear that played in his face. He -trembled, and his beard and his hands, which were held out to me, were -shaking. I, too, was frightened. - -"What is your reverence saying?" I asked. "I believe in God." - -"You lie, you mad dog!" - -He threatened me with the wrath and the vengeance of God, but he spoke -in a low tone, and his whole body trembled so that his cassock flowed -like green waves. He placed before my spirit a threatening, gruesome -God, severe in countenance, wrathful in spirit, poor in mercy, and like -the old God Jehovah in sternness. I said to the archbishop: - -"Now you, yourself, have fallen into heresies. Is this then the -Christian God? Where have you hidden Christ? Why do you place before -man the stern Judge instead of the Friend and the Helper?" He clutched -my hair and shook me to and fro, saying, haltingly: - -"Who are you, crazy one? You should be brought to the police, to -prison, to a monastery, to Siberia!" - -I came to myself. It was clear to me that if man called in the police -to protect his God, then neither he nor his God could have much -strength, and much less beauty. I arose and said: - -"Let me go." - -The old man fell back and spoke breathlessly. - -"What are you going to do?" - -"I will go away, I can learn nothing here. Your words are dead and you -kill God with them." - -He began to speak about the police again; but it was all the same to -me. The police could not do anything worse than what he had already -done. "Angels serve for the glory of God, not the police," I said; "but -if your faith teaches you something else, then stick to your faith." - -His face became green, and he jumped at me. "Alexei," he called, "throw -him out!" - -And Alexei threw me out on the street with great vigor. - -It was evening. I had spent fully two hours talking with the old -archbishop. The streets were in semi-darkness, and the picture was not -joyful. Everywhere there were noisy crowds, talk and laughter. It was -holiday time, the feast of the Three Wise Men. Weakly I walked along -and looked into the faces of the people. They angered me and I felt -like shouting out to them: - -"Hey, you people, what are _you_ so satisfied about? They are murdering -your God. Take care!" - -I walked along in my misery as one drunk, and did not know where I was -going. I did not want to go to my inn, for there there was noise and -drinking. I went out into the farthest suburb. Little houses stood -there, whose yellow windows looked out upon the fields, and the winds -played with the snow about them, and whistled and covered them up. - -I wanted to drink--to get very drunk; but alone, without people. I was -a stranger to all and was guilty before all. "I will cross this field," -I thought, "and see where it leads to." - -Suddenly a woman came out of a gate, dressed in a light dress and with -a shawl as her only protection against the cold. She looked into my -face and asked: - -"What is your name?" - -I understood that she was guessing her future husband. - -"I will not tell you my name. I am an unhappy man." - -"Unhappy?" she asked, laughing. "Now, in the holiday season?" - -I did not like her gaiety. - -"Is there no inn here in the neighborhood?" I asked. "I would like to -rest and warm myself a bit. It is cold." - -She looked at me searchingly and said in a friendly tone: - -"There, farther on, you will find an inn. But if you wish, you can come -to us and get a glass of tea." - -Indifferently and without thinking, I followed her. I came to the room. -On the wall in the comer burned a little lamp, and under the holy -images sat a stout old woman, chewing something. A samovar was on the -table; everything seemed cozy and warm. - -The woman asked me to sit down at the table. She was young, with red -cheeks and a high bosom. The old woman looked at me from her corner and -sniffed. She had a large, withered face, almost, it seemed, without -eyes. - -I was embarrassed. What was I doing here? Who were they? I asked the -young woman: - -"What do you do?" - -"I make lace." - -True. On the wall were hung bunches of bobbins. Suddenly she laughed -boldly and looked me straight in the face, and added: - -"And then, I walk some." - -The old woman laughed coarsely: "What a shameless hussy you are, Tanka!" - -Had the old woman not said that, I would not have understood Tatiana's -words. Now I knew what she meant, and became ill at ease. It was the -first time in my life I had seen a loose girl, near-to, and naturally I -did not think well of such women. Tatiana laughed. - -"See, Petrovna, he blushes," she said. - -I became angry. "And so I have fallen in here--from penance right into -sin," I thought. I said to the girl: - -"Does one boast of such an occupation?" - -She answered boldly: "I boast of it." - -The old woman began to sniff again: "Oh, Tatiana, Tatiana!" - -I did not know what to say or how to go away from them. No excuse came -to me. - -I sat there silent. The wind rattled on the windows, the samovar sang -and Tatiana began to tempt me. - -"Oh, it's hot," she said, and unbuttoned the collar of her waist. - -She had a pretty face and her eyes attracted me in spite of her -bold expression. The old woman put vodka on the table, a bottle of -"ordinary," and also some cherry brandy. - -"That's good," I thought to myself. "I will drink some, pay and then -go." - -"Why are you so miserable?" Tatiana asked suddenly. - -I could not restrain myself and answered: - -"My wife is dead." - -Then she asked very low: "When did she die?" - -"Only five weeks ago." - -The girl buttoned her waist and became more reserved. It pleased me. I -looked into her face and said to myself: - -"Thank you." - -Though my heart was heavy, yet I was young and was used to women. I had -two years of married life behind me. But the old woman said, gasping: - -"Your wife is dead--that is nothing much. You are young and there are -women enough. The streets are full of them." - -Here Tatiana said to her sternly: - -"Go to bed, Petrovna. I will escort our guest and will lock up." - -When the old woman was gone, she asked me earnestly and in a friendly -way: - -"Have you relatives?" - -"None." - -"And friends?" - -"No friends." - -"What are you going to do then?" - -"I do not know." - -She became thoughtful, stood up and said: - -"Listen. I see that you are in despair. I advise you, don't go out -alone. You followed me in here at my first word. You might have fallen -in somewhere where you could not get out so easily. Better remain here -over night. There is a bed here. Spend the night here, in heaven's -name. If you do not wish to do it for nothing, give something to -Petrovna--as much as you wish; and if I am in your way, then say so -frankly and I will go." - -I liked her words and also her eyes. I could not suppress a feeling of -joy and I said to' myself, smiling: - -"Oh, that archbishop!" - -"What archbishop?" Tatiana asked, surprised. - -I was confused and did not know what to say. - -"That is just an expression of mine," I answered. "That is, not really -an expression; only very often there is an archbishop who appears in my -dreams." - -"Well, good night," she said. - -"Not yet," I answered quickly. "Don't go away, I beg of you. Remain -here a little longer, if it is no trouble to you." - -She took her place again and smiled. - -"Very gladly. It is no trouble." - -She asked me if I would drink a glass of vodka or tea, and whether I -wished to eat. Her sincere friendliness brought the tears to my eyes, -and my heart became as happy as a bird on a spring morning when the sun -rises. - -"Excuse me for my plain words," I said, "but I would like to know if it -is true what you told me about yourself a little while ago? Or did you -wish to joke with me?" - -She frowned and answered: "Yes, I am one of them. Why do you ask?" - -"It is the first time in my life that I have seen such a girl, and I am -ashamed." - -"What are you ashamed of? I am not sitting naked." And she laughed low -and caressingly. - -"Not on your account," I answered. "I am ashamed on my own -account--because of my stupidity." - -And I told her frankly my opinion of her class of girls. She listened -quietly and attentively. - -"There are various kinds among us," she said. "There may be some who -are even worse than you think. You believe people altogether too -readily." - -I could not get the thought out of my head how such a girl could sell -herself, and I asked her again: "Do you do it from necessity?" - -"At first," she answered, "I was deceived by a handsome young fellow. -To spite him I got another one, and so I fell into the play. And now it -happens many times that I do it for the sake of a piece of bread." - -She said it quite simply and there was no pity for herself in her words. - -"Do you go to church?" I asked. - -She started and became red all over. "The way to the church is -forbidden to no one." - -I felt that I had offended her and added hurriedly: - -"You misunderstood me. I know the gospels; I know of Mary Magdalene and -of the sinner through whom the Pharisees tempted Christ. I only wished -to ask you whether you were not angered against God for the life that -you were leading; whether you did not doubt His goodness." - -She frowned again, remained thoughtful, and said, surprised: - -"I do not know what God has to do with it." - -"How then?" I asked. "Is He not our Shepherd and our Father in whose -mighty hand the destiny of man rests?" - -And she answered: "I do no harm to people. What am I guilty of? And -whom can it hurt that I lead an unclean life? Only myself." - -I felt that she wished to say something good and true, but I could not -understand her. - -"I alone am responsible for my sins," she said, bowing to me and her -whole face lighting up in a smile. "Besides, my sins do not appear so -great. Perhaps what I am saying is not quite right, but I am speaking -the truth. I go to church gladly. Our church has just been built, and -it is so bright and sweet. And how our choir sings! Sometimes they -touch the heart, so that I must weep. In the church the soul gets a -rest from all worries." - -She remained silent for some time, and then added: - -"Of course, there are other reasons. The men see you there." - -I was so astounded by what she said that she told me I had drops of -sweat standing on my temples. I could not understand how all these -things came together in her so simply and harmoniously. - -"Did you love your wife very much?" she asked me. - -"Yes, very much," I answered, and her naïveté? pleased me more and more. - -I began to tell her of my spiritual state, of my wrath against God, -because he did not hold me back from sins and then unjustly punished me -by the death of Olga. She became now pale and depressed, now red all -over with eyes on fire, so that she excited me. For the first time in -my life I let my thoughts sweep over the whole circle of human life as -I saw it, and it appeared to me as something incoherent and wasteful, -shameful in its evil and helplessness, its groaning and moaning and -wailing. - -"Where are the Godlike?" I asked. "People sit on each other's backs, -suck each other's blood, and everywhere there is the brutal struggle -for a piece of bread. Where is there room for the Godlike? Where is -there room for goodness and love, strength and beauty? Although I am -young, I was not born blind. Who is Christ, the God-child? Who has -trampled the flowers which His pure heart has sown? Who has stolen the -wisdom of His love?" - -I told her of the archbishop and how he had threatened me with his -black God and how he, to protect his God, wanted to call in the police -to help him. - -Tatiana laughed. I, too, found the archbishop quite laughable now. He -looked to me like a green grasshopper who chirps and jumps about as -if he were doing something, heaven knows how important, but when one -examines more closely, then one sees that he himself does not believe -in the truth of his work. - -She laughed at my words. Then the brow of the good girl became clouded. - -"I did not understand everything," she said. "Still, some of the things -you said were terrible. You think so boldly about God." - -"One cannot live without seeing God," I said. - -"True," she answered. "But you seem to be having a hand-to-hand fight -with Him. Is that allowed? That the life of man is difficult is true -enough. I myself have thought at times, 'Why should it be?' But listen -to what I am going to tell you. Right here in the neighborhood is a -nunnery where a hermitess, a very wise old woman, lives. She speaks -beautifully about God. You ought to visit her." - -"Why not?" I asked. "I will go to her. I am going everywhere--to all -righteous people, to seek peace." - -"And I will go to sleep," she said, giving me her hand. "You, too, go -to bed." - -I pressed her hand, shook it warmly, and said to her from the fulness -of my heart: - -"I thank you; what you have given me I do not yet know how to value, -still I feel that you are a good girl, and I thank you." - -"For heaven's sake, what are you saying?" she asked. She became -embarrassed and blushed all over. "I am so glad," she went on, "that -you feel better." - -I saw that she was truly pleased. What was I to her? And yet, she was -happy for having made a stranger feel better. - -I put out the lamp, lay down on the bed, and said to myself: - -"I fell into a real holiday celebration quite unexpectedly." - -Though my heart was not much lighter, nevertheless I felt that -something new and good was born within me. I saw Tatiana's eyes, which -now looked enticingly, now earnestly, but from which there spoke more -of the human heart than of the woman, and I thought of her in pure joy. -And to think so about any one--is it not to make holiday? - -I decided that to-morrow I would buy her a gold ring with a blue stone, -but later I forgot about it. Thirteen years have passed since that day, -and when I think of the girl I always regret that I did not buy her -the ring. - -In the morning she knocked on the door. - -"Time to get up." - -We met as old friends and sat down to drink tea together. She urged me -to go to the hermitess and I promised to do so. Saying farewell to each -other heartily, we went together as far as the gate. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -I felt as alone in the city as in the wide steppes. - -There were thirty-three versts to the monastery, and I immediately -started on my way to it and on the next day I said early mass there. - -Around me were nuns, a whole black crowd, as if a mountain had fallen -apart and its broken pieces were lying about in the church. - -The monastery was rich. There were many sisters, all rather heavy, -with fat, white, soft faces, as if made of dough. The priest said mass -energetically, but a little too hurriedly. He had a good bass, was -large and broad and seemed well fed. - -The nuns in the choir were every one of them pretty, and sang -wonderfully. The tapers wept their white tears and their flames -trembled with pity for men. - -"My soul struggles to reach Thy temple, Thy holy temple," their young -voices sang out humbly. - -Out of habit I repeated the words of the litany, but my eyes wandered -and I tried to pick out the hermitess. There was no reverence in my -heart, and it hurt me to admit it, for I had not come here to play. My -soul was empty and I tried to collect myself. Everything in me was -confused and my thoughts wandered, one after the other. I saw a few -emaciated faces, half-dead old women, who stared at the holy images and -whose lips moved but made no sound. - -After mass I walked around the church. The day was bright and the -white snow reflected the glistening rays of the sun, while on the -branches the tit-mice piped and sent the hoar-frost from the twigs. I -walked to the churchyard wall and looked out into the distance. The -monastery stood on the mountain, and before it Mother Earth was spread -out, richly dressed in its silvery blue snow. The little villages on -the horizon looked sad, the wood was cut through by streams, and the -pathways wound in and out like ribbons which some one had lost. Over -all, the sun sent its slanting winter rays and stillness, peace and -beauty were everywhere. - -A little later I stood in the cell of Mother Fevronia. I saw a little -old woman with browless eyes, who wept constantly. On her face, with -its myriad wrinkles, a good-natured, unchanging smile trembled. She -spoke low, almost in a whisper, and in a singsong tone. - -"Do not eat apples before the day of the Lord. Wait till the Lord in -His love has made them ripe; until the seeds are black." - -"What does she mean by that?" I thought to myself. - -"Respect your father and mother," she continued. "I have no father or -mother," I said. - -"Then pray for the peace of their souls." - -"Maybe they are still alive." - -She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at me with a pitying -smile. Then again she began shaking her head and continued in her -singsong: - -"The Lord God is good; He is righteous toward all and covers all with -His rich bounty." - -"That is just what I doubt," I said. - -I saw that she started, her arms sank, and she remained silent, while -her eyes continued to sparkle. Then she controlled herself and sang on, -quite low: - -"Remember that prayers have wings which fly even faster than birds and -reach the throne of the Lord. No one has yet entered heaven on his own -horse." - -This much I understood: that she represented God to herself as some -noble lord, good natured and lovable, but still, according to her -opinion, bound by no law. She expressed all her thoughts in allegories -which, to my disappointment, I could not understand. I bowed and went -my way. - -"Here they have broken the Lord God into many pieces," I thought to -myself, "each one to his own need. One makes Him good-natured, the -other stern and dark. And the priests have hired Him as their clerk and -pay Him with the smoke of incense for His support. Only Larion had an -infinite God." - -Several nuns passed me, drawing a sleigh full of snow, and tittered. -My heart was heavy and I did not know what to do. I went out from -the gate. All without was still. The snow sparkled and shone, the -frost-covered trees stood motionless, and heaven and earth seemed sunk -in thought and looked in a friendly manner at the quiet monastery. A -fear arose in me lest I break this stillness with my cries. - -The bells called to vespers--what sweet chimes! They were soft and -coaxing, but I had no desire to enter the church. I felt as if my head -were full of sharp little nails. Suddenly I made the resolution: - -"I shall enter a monastery with severe regulations. There I shall live -alone in a solitary cell; will reflect and read books, and perhaps I -shall in this loneliness become the master of my scattered soul." - -A week later I found myself before the Abbot of the small monastery of -Sabateieff. I liked the Abbot. He was a good-looking man, gray headed -and bald, with red, firm cheeks and a promising look in his eyes. - -"Why do you flee the world, my son?" he asked me. - -I explained to him that the death of Olga disturbed the peace of my -soul, but further I did not dare say anything. Something seemed to hold -me back from speaking. - -He pulled at his beard, looked at me searchingly and said: - -"Can you pay the initiation fee?" - -"I have about a hundred rubles with me." - -"Give them to me. Now go into the guest room. To-morrow, after the -noonday service, I will speak to you." - -The care of strangers fell to the lot of Father Nifont, and him, too, I -liked. - -"Everything is very simple in our monastery," he said. "It is -democratic. We all work equally in serving God, not as in other places. -True, we have a gentleman here, but he does not mix with any one or -bother us in any way. You can find peace and rest for your soul here -and attain blessedness." - -By the following day I had examined the monastery well. In former times -it must have stood in the center of the wood, but now everything around -it was hewn down. Only here and there in front of the gates a few tree -trunks stood out from the ground. Toward the side the wood reached up -to the very walls of the monastery and embraced, as with two black -wings, the blue-domed church and the monastery. Nearby lay Blue Lake -under its ice cover, formed like a half moon. It was nine versts from -end to end and four versts wide. Behind it one could see the land on -the other side, and the three churches of Kudejaroff, and the golden -cupola of St. Nicholas of Tolokontzeff. On our side of the lake, not -far from the monastery, was the hamlet of Kudejaroff, with its three -and twenty little huts, and around it lay the mighty forests. - -All was beautiful, and a quiet peace filled my soul. Here I would hold -communion with the Lord; would unfold before Him my innermost soul, -and would ask Him with humble insistence to show me the way to the -knowledge of His holy laws. - -In the evening I attended vespers. The mass was said severely and -according to rule, and with ardor. But the singing did not please me; -good voices were lacking. - -"O Lord, forgive me if my thoughts about Thee were too bold," I prayed. -"I did not do it out of lack of faith, but because of love and passion -for the truth, as you know, O Omniscient One!" - -Suddenly the monk who stood near me turned and smiled at me. Evidently -I had spoken my repentant words too loud. As he smiled I looked at -him. Such a handsome face! I let my head sink and closed my eyes. -Never, either before or since, have I seen so handsome a face. I -stepped lightly forward, placed myself next to him and looked into his -wonderful countenance. It was as white as milk and framed in a black -beard sprinkled here and there with gray. His eyes were large, and they -had a soft mellow light and a bright expression. His figure was well -built and tall; his nose a little bent like an eagle's, and his whole -bearing was distinguished and noble. He made so deep an impression on -me that even at night he stood before me in my dreams. - -Early in the morning Father Nifont woke me. - -"The Abbot has assigned you some test work. Go to the bakery. This -worthy brother here will take you there. He will be your superior in -the future. Here, take your cloistral robes." - -I put on a monk's garb. They fitted me well, but were worn and dirty -and the sole from one boot was loose. - -I looked at my superior. He was broad-shouldered and awkward, with his -forehead and cheeks full of pimples and pockmarks, from which sprouted -little bunches of gray hair; his whole face looked as if it were -covered with sheep's wool; he would have been laughable were it not -for the deep folds on his forehead, his compressed lip and his little, -dark, blinking eyes. - -"Hurry up!" he said to me. - -His voice was harsh and cracked, like a broken bell. - -"This is Brother Misha." Father Nifont introduced him, smiling. "Well, -go, and God be with you." - -We walked out into the court. It was dark. Misha stumbled over -something and swore horribly. Then he asked me: - -"Can you knead dough?" - -"I have seen the women knead," I answered. - -"Women!" he muttered. "You're always thinking about women! Always -women! On account of them the world is accursed, don't you forget that!" - -"The mother of God was a woman," I said. - -"Well?" - -"And also there are very many virtuous women." - -"If you speak like that the devil will surely drag you to hell." - -"Anyway, he is a serious man," I thought to myself. - -We arrived at the bakery and he made the fire. There were two large -kneading troughs covered with sacks, a large flour bin nearby, a big -sack of rye and a bag of wheat. Everything was dirty and filthy, and -cobwebs and gray dust lay over all. Misha tore the sack off from one of -the troughs, threw it on the earth, and commanded: - -"Well, come and learn! Here is the dough. Do you see those bubbles? -That means it is ready--it has already risen." - -He took a sack of flour as if it were a three-year-old youngster, bent -it over the edge of the trough, cut it open with his knife and cried as -though at a fire: - -"Pour four pails of water here and then knead!" - -He was white like a tree with hoarfrost. - -I threw off my cassock and rolled up my sleeves. He shouted: - -"Not that way! Take off your trousers! With your feet!" - -"I haven't taken a bath for a long time," I said. - -"Who asked you about that?" - -"How can I, then, with dirty feet?" - -"Am I your pupil," he roared, "or are you mine?" - -He had a large mouth, and strong, broad teeth, and long arms, which he -waved angrily in the air. - -"Well," I thought, "the devil take you; I don't care." - -I wiped my feet with a wet cloth, stepped into the kneading trough and -began to work the dough, while my teacher ran here and there, grumbling. - -"I will teach you to bend, my little mother's son. I will teach you -humility and obedience!" - -I kneaded one trough, began another, and when that was done, started on -the wheat, which is kneaded with the hands. I was a strong fellow, but -was not used to the work. The flour filled my nose, my mouth, my ears -and eyes, so that I became deaf and blind; and the sweat kept dropping -from my forehead into the dough. - -"Haven't you a piece of cloth," I asked, "to wipe the sweat off?" - -Misha became raging mad. "We will get you velvet towels. The monastery -has been standing 230 years, and has only been waiting for your new -orders." - -I had to laugh, unwillingly. "I am not kneading the dough for myself," -I said. "There are others who have to eat the bread." - -He walked up to me, bristling like a porcupine and every part of him -trembling. - -"Take a sack and wipe yourself, if you are so tender. But I will tell -the Abbot about your impudence." - -I was so surprised at this man that I could not be angry at him. He -worked unceasingly, and the heavy two-hundred sacks were like little -pillows in his hands. He was covered with flour, grumbled, swore and -urged me on continually. - -"Hurry! Hurry!" - -I hurried till my head swam. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -The first days of my cloistral novitiate were not easy. The bakery was -in the cellar under the refectory; the ceiling was low and vaulted, and -its one window was nailed tightly. The air was suffocating. The dust -from the flour hung in the cellar like a thick mist, in which Misha -trotted back and forth like a bear on a chain. The flame in the oven -burned unclearly; it was a nightmare, not work. - -Only we two were down there, for it was seldom that any one was sent as -a punishment to help us. - -There was no time even to attend religious services. - -Day after day Misha preached his sermon to me, and I felt as if I were -being bound with stout ropes. He was all aflame and burned with wrath -against the world, while I breathed in his words and I felt that my -inmost heart was covered with soot. - -"You have nothing more to do with man," he said. "They continue to -commit sins out there in the world, but you have left the world -forever. If you separated from it with your body, then you must also -flee it in spirit. You must forget it. If you think of man, you think -unwillingly of woman. And through woman the world has sunk into -darkness and sin and is bound eternally." - -I wanted to say something, but no sooner did I open my mouth than he -shouted at me: - -"Keep still! Listen attentively to what an experienced man has to say, -and respect your elders! I know you were going to blab something about -the mother of God again. But it was just on account of her that Christ -died on the crucifix--because He was born of woman, and did not descend -holy and pure from heaven. He was altogether too good to that nasty -woman all his life, and he should have pushed the Samaritan into the -well instead of conversing with her. And He should have been the first -to throw a stone at the sinner. Then the world would have been free." - -"That is not a church thought," I said. - -"Again I tell _you_, keep still. The church is entirely in the hands -of a pale clergy, who are slaves to all sorts of debauchery and who -themselves go around in silk clothes like women in petticoats. They are -all heretics. They should dance quadrilles, not dictate religious laws. -Moreover, is it possible for a man with a wife to think upon God-like -things with a pure heart? No, he cannot, for he is committing the -terrible sin on account of which the Lord drove him out of the Garden -of Eden. And because of this sin we are damned to eternal punishment; -sentenced to howl and to gnash our teeth, and we are blinded by it so -that we cannot see the countenance of God from one eternity to another. -The clergy themselves help spread this sin, for they have children with -women and encourage the world to follow their bad example. And thus -they change all the laws of God to justify their violations of them." - -This man made me feel as if I were surrounded by a stone wall, which -came closer and closer around me. He brought the roof of the cellar -sinking upon my head. I was oppressed and stifled by the dust of his -words. - -"But," I said, "did not the Lord say, 'Multiply and increase'?" - -Here my superior became blue in the face, stamped his feet on the -ground, and roared like a beast: - -"He said! He said! How do you know what he meant by it, you blockhead? -He said: 'Be fruitful and multiply and people the earth. I leave to you -the power of Satan, and may you be damned now, and forever and through -all eternity.' That is what he said. And these cursed debauchees who -call themselves the servants of God turned these words into a law of -God. Do you understand their deceit and their vileness?" - -He fell on me like a mountain which crushed me and darkened everything -about me. I could not believe him, yet I could not contradict his -bigotry, and he confused me by the violence of his attacks. If I quoted -a passage from the Scriptures he quoted three others and disarmed me. -The Scriptures are like a field of many-colored flowers. If you desire -red flowers you can find red ones; if white, they, too, are to be had. - -I remained silent, oppressed by his torrent of words, while he -triumphed and his eyes glowed like a wolf's. And all the time we toiled -hard at our work. I kneaded and he rolled the dough, pushed the loaves -into the oven, and took them out when they were ready. But I had to put -them on the shelves, which burned my hands. - -I was all sticky with dough and covered with flour; I was blind and -deaf and did not understand from sheer weariness what was said to me. - -Sometimes the monks came to visit us, said something mockingly and -laughed. Misha barked at them all angrily, and drove them out of the -bakery, and I felt scorched. I was wretched, for I did not like this -being together with Misha, whom I not only did not love, but even -feared. Many times he asked me: - -"Do you see naked women in your dreams?" - -"No," I answered, "never." - -"You're lying! Why do you lie?" - -He became enraged, showed his teeth and threatened me with his fist. - -"You're a liar and a rascal," he shouted. - -I was only astonished. What is he saying there about naked women? A man -works from three o'clock in the morning till ten at night and then lies -down to sleep with bones aching like a beggar's in winter--and he talks -of women. Such were my thoughts. - -Once I went into the ante-room for yeast. It was a dark room in the -cellar, opposite the bakery. I found the door unlocked and a lantern -burning. I opened the door and saw Misha crawling on the ground on his -stomach, and crying out: - -"Send them away, I implore Thee, Lord! Send them away! Deliver me!" - -Of course, I immediately went out, but I could not guess what it was -about. - -He always spoke hatefully and insultingly about women, called all -womankind vulgar and in real peasant fashion spat at them, clutching -the air with his fingers as if in his mind's eye he were tearing and -pulling a woman's body apart. - -I could not bear to hear him talk. I remembered my own wife and our -happy tears the first night of our marriage, and the quiet, inner -wonder with each other, and our great joy. Is it not Thy sweet gift to -man, O Lord? I remembered Tatiana's good heart and her simplicity, and -I was hurt to tears for womankind. I thought to myself: - -"When the Abbot will call me for an interview, I shall tell him -everything." - -But he did not call me. The days passed one after another, like blind -people in a wood along a narrow path, each one stumbling upon the -other, and still the Abbot did not call me. Darkness was within me. At -that time, in my twenty-second year, my first gray hair came. - -I wanted to speak with the handsome monk, but I saw him rarely and only -for an instant. Now and then his proud countenance came before me and -then vanished and my longing for him followed him like an invisible -shadow. I asked Misha about him. - -"Oh," Misha cried, "that one! That animal! He was sent away from the -military for gambling in cards and from the seminary for his scandals -with women. A learned one, yes! He fell into the seminary from the -military, cheated all the monks in the monastery of Chudoff; then came -here, bought himself in with seven and a half thousand rubles, donated -land and so won great respect. Here, too; they play cards. The Abbot, -the steward and the treasurer, they all play with him. There is a girl -who visits him--oh, the pigs! He has a separate apartment, and there he -lives just as he pleases. The great filth of it!" - -I did not believe him; I could not. One day I asked the steward, Father -Isador, to help me gain an interview with the Abbot. - -"An interview about what?" - -"About faith." - -"What do you mean, 'about faith'?" - -"I have various questions." - -He looked me over from head to toe. He was a head taller than I, thin, -angular, with wise, smiling eyes, a long, crooked nose and a pointed -beard. - -"Speak plainly; your flesh masters you?" - -Always of the flesh! Though I did not want to, nevertheless I told him -of some of my doubts in a few words. He frowned, then smiled. - -"For this, my son, you should pray. By means of prayer you can heal the -suffering of your soul. Still, in consideration of your love for labor, -and because your request is so unusual, I will place the matter before -the Abbot. Wait." - -The word "unusual" surprised me. I felt that the expression was -frivolous and there was hostility in it toward me. - -Then I was summoned to come before the Father Abbot, and he looked at -me sternly as I bowed before him. He said in a tone of authority: - -"Father Isador told me of your desire to discuss the faith with me." - -"I did not mean to argue," I said. - -"Do not interrupt the speech of your elders. Every discussion which two -people have about a subject is an argument, and every question is a -seducer of thought, unless, of course, it is a subject which concerns -itself with the daily life of the brotherhood--: some commonplace -subject. Here we have a working community. We work to subjugate the -flesh, so that the soul, which lives in it temporarily, may devote -itself wholly to the Lord, and thus pray and receive His mercy for the -sins of the world. Our lot is not to gain cleverness, but to work. -Cleverness is not necessary to us, only simplicity of soul. - -"Your discussions with Brother Misha are known to me, and I cannot -approve of them. Limit the boldness of your thought so that you do not -fall into temptation, for the aimless thoughts which are not bound -down by faith are the keenest weapons of the devil. The mind comes -from the flesh; bold thoughts from the devil; but the strength of the -soul is a part of the spirit of God, and open-heartedness is given the -righteous through meditation. - -"Brother Misha, your superior, is a strict monk, a true ascetic and -brother, beloved by all for his work. I will punish you with a penance. -After your day's labor is done read the Acathistus to Christ at the -altar on the left in front of the Crucifixion, three times during the -night, for ten successive nights. - -"Added to this, you will also have to have interviews with the penance -monk, Mardarie. The time and the number will be told you later. - -"You were a clerk on an estate, were you not? Go in peace. I will think -about you. It seems that you have no relatives on this earth. Well, go, -I will pray for you. We will hope for the best." - -I returned to the bakery and began to weigh his words in my mind. That -was easily done. Perhaps the mind does become scattered in its search. -Still, to live like a sheep is hardly worthy nor right for man. At -that time I understood "meditation in prayer" as a sinking into the -depths of my own soul, where all the roots lay, and from which thoughts -strove to grow upward, as fruit trees. I could not find anything in my -soul which was hostile or not to be understood. All that was not to -be understood I felt was in God, and all that was hostile was in the -world--that is--outside of me. - -That the brothers loved Misha I knew to be absolutely untrue, for -although I kept myself apart from all and did not mix in their -conversations, still I noticed everything and saw that the vested monks -as well as the novices disliked Misha and feared him and abhorred him. - -I saw also that the monastery was laid out on a purely business basis. -They sold wood, they rented land to peasants and the right to fish on -the lake; they had a mill, vegetable gardens, large orchards, and sold -apples, berries and cabbages. Seventy horses stood in the stables, and -the brotherhood was composed of a little over fifty men, all strong and -hard workers. There were a few old men--only for parade--to show off -before the pilgrims. The monks drank wine and mixed much with women. -The young ones spent their nights in the village; and women came to the -cells of the older ones, ostensibly to wash the floors; and of course -the pilgrims were made use of also. - -But all this was not my affair and I could not judge them. I saw no sin -in it, only a disgusting lie. - -Many novices came to the monastery, but the tests were so difficult -that they could not endure them and deserted. During the two years that -I spent in this holy place, eleven brothers escaped. They remained one -or two months and fled. It seemed the life in the monastery was too -difficult. - -For the pilgrims who came to the monastery there were, of course, all -kinds of attractions. There were the chains of the deceased pious -brother Joseph, which were a cure for rheumatism, and his little cap -which, when put on the head, cured headaches. And there was a very cold -spring in the wood, whose water was good for sickness in general. An -image of the Assumption of the Virgin contained all kinds of wonders -for believers, and the pious penance brother, Mardarie, could foretell -the future and comfort the unhappy. Everything was as it should be, and -in the spring, in the month of May, the people streamed here in crowds. - -After my conversation with the Abbot, I wanted to find another -monastery, which would be simpler and where I need not work so hard, -and where the monks would stand nearer to their real task--the -understanding of the sins of this world. But several things happened -which kept me back. - -One day I made the acquaintance of a novice named Grisha, who was -employed in the office of the monastery. I had noticed him before. He -walked quickly and noisily among the brothers, wore smoked glasses, had -an insignificant face, an under-sized body, and walked with his head -bent forward, as if he wanted to see nothing but his own path. - -The day after my conversation with the Abbot, Grisha came into the -bakery. Misha had just gone to the brother treasurer to give his -accounts. Grisha came in, greeted me low, and asked: - -"You were at the Abbot's, brother?" - -"Yes." - -"Did you talk with him?" - -"No." - -"He sent you away?" - -"Why should he?" - -Grisha fixed his glasses, became confused and said. - -"I beg your pardon, in Christ's name." - -"Did he ever send you away?" I asked. - -He nodded affirmatively and sat down on the edge of the flour bin, -bent forward, coughed dryly and beat the bin with a hook while I told -him what the Abbot had said to me. Suddenly he jumped up, straightened -to his full height as if on springs, and began to speak in his loud, -plaintive, excited voice: - -"Why do they call this a place for the salvation of the soul when -everything here is based upon money; when we live here for money, -just as in the world outside? I fled to save myself from the sin of -business, and again I fell upon business here. Where shall I flee now?" - -His whole body trembled, and he told me quickly the history of his -life. He was the son of a merchant who owned a bakery, had graduated -from a school of commerce, and was placed by his father in his business. - -"Were it some little nonsense," he said, "then, perhaps, I could deal -in it. But with bread it was unpleasant and shameful to me. Bread is -indispensable to all. One should not own it to make it the means of -trade for human need. Perhaps my father would have broken me had his -avarice not broken him. I had a sister, an academy student, gay and -proud, who read books and was friendly with all the students. Suddenly -my father said to her: - -"Stop your studying, Elizabeth. I have found a husband for you." - -'I don't want him,' she answered. - -"But my father pulled her hair until my little sister gave in. The -bridegroom was the-son of a rich tea merchant--a cross-eyed, large -man, vulgar and continually boasting of his wealth. Liza, next to him, -looked like a mouse next to a dog. He disgusted her. But my father said: - -"'You fool, he has shops in many cities on the Volga.' - -"Well, they were married, and during the wedding supper she went to her -room and shot herself in the breast. I found her still living, and she -said to me: - -"'Good-by, Grisha. I want to live very much, but it is impossible! It -is terrible! I can't! I can't!'" I remember that he talked very, very -fast, as if he were running away from the past, while I listened and -looked at the stove. Its brow was before me and it looked like some -ancient and blind face whose black mouth licked with flames ate up -the whistling and hissing wood. I saw Grisha's sister in the fire and -thought bitterly: - -"Why do people violate and destroy one another?" - -Grisha's thick words fell one upon the other like dry leaves in autumn: - -"My father almost went out of his senses. He stamped his feet and -cried: 'She has insulted her parents! Her soul is lost.' Only after the -burial, when he saw that all of Kazan followed Liza's body and laid -wreaths upon her tomb, did he come to himself. 'If all the people are -for her,' he said, 'it means that I behaved like a scoundrel toward my -child!'" - -Grisha wept and dried his glasses, and his hands trembled. - -"Even before this misfortune befell us I wanted to enter a monastery, -and I had said to my father: - -"'Let me.' - -"But he swore at me and beat me. Nevertheless, I said firmly: - -"'I will not do business. Let me go.' - -"He was frightened by Liza's death, and gave me freedom, and now, in -these four years, I have lived in three monasteries, and everywhere -there is barter, and I have no place for my soul. They sell God's earth -and God's word, His honey and His miracles. I cannot stand it any -longer!" - -His story awoke my soul again, for I did little thinking while I lived -in the monastery. I was so worn out by my labors, that _my_ rebellious -thought slumbered. Suddenly his words woke me. I asked Grisha: - -"Where, then, is our God? There is nothing around us but the arbitrary -and mad foolishness of man; nothing but the petty deceptions from which -misfortunes arise. Where, then, is God?" - -But here Misha appeared and drove us out. From that day Grisha came -to me often, and I told him my thoughts, which horrified him, and he -counseled humility: - -"But why do people suffer so?" I asked. - -"For their sins," he answered. - -To him everything came from the hands of God--famine, fire, violent -death and floods--everything. - -"Can it be that God is the sower of misfortune on earth?" I asked. - -"Remember Job, insane one," he whispered to me. - -"Job has nothing to do with me," I answered. "I in his place would -have said to God, 'Do not frighten me, but answer me clearly: Where is -the way that leads to Thee? Am I not Thy son, made in Thy image? Don't -lower Thyself to repulse Thy child.'" - -Often Grisha wept at the foolishness of my audacity, and embracing me, -he said: - -"My dear brother, I am frightened for you--terribly frightened. Your -words and your reasonings are from the devil." - -"I do not believe in the devil, for God is all-powerful." - -Then he became even more excited. He was a pure and tender man, and I -loved him. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -It was at this time that I performed the penance. - -After my day's work I went to the church, where Brother Nikodime opened -the door for me and locked me in, disturbing the stillness of the -temple with the loud rattle of iron. I waited at the door till the last -reverberation died away on the flagstones, then walked up quietly to -the Crucifix and sat down upon the floor before it, for I was too weak -to stand. Every muscle in my body ached from toil, and I had no desire -to read the Acathistus. - -I sat down, clasped my knees and gazed about me with sleepy eyes and -thought about Grisha and about myself. It was summer, and the nights -were hot and close, but here, in the semi-darkness of the church, it -was pleasantly cool. The lamps under the holy pictures twinkled and -winked at each other, and the little blue flames tugged upward as -if they wished to fly toward the cupola, or higher still, to heaven -itself, to the stars of the summer night. The quiet crackling of the -wicks could be heard, each with its own peculiar sound, and half -asleep, it seemed to me that the church was filled with a secret, -unseen life, which, under the flickering of the lamps, held communion -with itself. In the warm stillness and darkness the faces of the saints -floated meditatively, as if something unsolved were before them. -Ghost-like shadows passed before my face and the delicate, sweet odor -of oil and cypress wood and incense surrounded me. The gold and the -bronze of the holy images appeared duller and simpler, the silver shone -warm and friendly, and everything melted and swam fusing into a torrent -large and wide as in a dream. - -Like a thick, sweet-smelling cloud, the church swung and swam to the -low whispering of an indistinct prayer. I swung with it in a row of -shadows, until a soft drowsiness took me up from the ground. - -Before the ringing of the bell for early mass, the silent Brother -Nikodime would enter and wake me, touching me lightly on the head. - -"Go, in God's name," he would say, and I would answer: - -"Pardon me, I have fallen asleep again." - -Then I would go out swaying, and Nikodime would support me and say -hardly audibly: - -"God will pardon you, my benefactor." - -Nikodime was an insignificant looking little old man, who hid his face -from all and called every one his "benefactor." Once I asked him: - -"Say, Nikodimushke, are you silent because of a vow?" - -"No," he answered; "but just so." Then he sighed. "If I had anything to -say, I would say it." "Why did you leave the world?" - -"Because I left it." - -If you questioned him further, he did not answer at all, but looked -into jour face with guilty eyes, and said in a whisper: - -"I don't know why, my benefactor." - -At times I thought to myself: "Perhaps this man, also, had sought an -answer at one time." - -And I wanted to run away from the monastery. - -But here another gentleman appeared, starting up suddenly like a rubber -ball against a fence. He was a strong, short, bold fellow, with round -eyes like an owl's, a bent nose, light curls, a bushy beard and teeth -which shone in a continual smile. He amused all the monks with his -jokes and his shameless stories about women. At night he had them come -to the monastery, smuggled in vodka without end, and was marvelously -handy at everything. I looked at him and said: - -"What do you seek in a monastery?" - -"I? Things to gobble." - -"Bread is given to those who work." - -"That," he answered, "is a commandment from the peasants' God, but I am -a man from the town and have also served two years in the Council, and -can count myself as one of the authorities." - -I tried to understand this jester, for I had to see all the springs -which moved different kinds of people. - -As I became more used to my work, Misha grew lazier, went off somewhere -or other, and although it was more difficult for me alone, still it was -more pleasant. People came freely to the bakery and we talked. - -Mostly we were three--Grisha, I and; oily Seraphim. Grisha would be -excited and threatened me with his hands; Seraphim would whistle and -shake his curls and smile. Once I asked him: - -"Seraphim, you vagabond, do you believe in God?" - -"I will tell you later," he answered. "Wait about thirty years. When -I am in my sixties, I suppose I will know exactly what I believe. At -present I understand nothing and I don't want to lie." - -He would tell us about the sea. He spoke about it as about a great -miracle, using marvelous words, now quiet and loud; now with fear, and -with love. And he glowed all over with joy which made him look like a -star. When we listened to him we were silent and even heavy at heart at -his stories of this vast, live beauty. - -"The sea," he said with passion, "is the blue eye of earth which looks -out to the far heaven and meditates on infinite space. On its waves, -which are as alive and sensitive as the soul, is reflected the play of -the stars and their secret path; and if you watch for a long time the -ebb and the flow of the sea, then the sky, too, appears like a far-off -ocean, and the stars like islands." - -Grisha listened, all pale, and smiled quietly, as if a moonbeam were -playing on him, and he whispered sadly: - -"And before the countenance of this mystery and beauty we only -barter--nothing more." - -At other times Seraphim would tell us about the Caucasus. He pictured -to us a land gloomy and exquisite, like a fairyland, where hell and -heaven embraced, and were at peace, both equal and both proud in their -majesty. - -"To see the Caucasus," Seraphim said in ecstasy, "that means to see the -pure countenance of the earth, on which without inconsistency there -unite in a smile the delicate purity of the childlike soul and the -proud audacity and wisdom of the devil. The Caucasus is the touchstone -of man. Weak spirits are ground to dust there and tremble before the -power of the earth; but the strong, on the other hand, feel their -strength grow and become proud and exalted like the mountain whose -diamond-studded summit sends down its rays into the depths of the -celestial wilderness. And this summit is the throne of the thunder." - -Grisha sighed and asked in a low voice: - -"And who points out the path to the soul? Should one be in the world or -go away from it? What should one accept and what reject?" - -Seraphim smiled distractedly and luminously. - -"The glory of the sun is neither augmented nor diminished because you -do not look at the sky, Grisha. Don't bother about that subject, my -dear friend." - -I understood Seraphim, but not entirely. I asked him, a little hurt: - -"And as to people--what do you think about them? Why are they here?" - -He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. - -"People--are like weeds. There are various kinds among them. For -those who are blind the sun is black; for those who are not happy -with themselves, God is an enemy. Besides, people are young. To call -three-year-old Jack, Mr. So-and-so is early a bit and doesn't quite -fit." - -His mouth overflowed with such quotations. They dropped from his lips -like leaves from an apple tree, just as with Savelko. If you asked -him anything, he immediately overpowered you with his puns, as if he -were strewing flowers on a child's grave. His evasions made me angry, -but he, the young devil, only laughed. At times I would say to him, -irritated: - -"You are loafing here, you idle dog, eating bread for nothing." - -"That is the way it is with us," he answered. "He who eats his own -bread remains hungry. Look at our peasants. All their life they -sow wheat, yet dare not eat. You're quite right. To work is not my -specialty. You get sore bones from work, but never rich and healthy; -just lie in bed and shirk and you get fat and wealthy. And even you, -Matvei, would rather steal than forego a meal." - -I argued with him, but toward the end I myself began to laugh. - -He was simple and straightforward, and that attracted me very much. He -never made any pretensions, but said simply: - -"I am nothing but a little insect, and not very harmful at that. I only -ask for bread that I be fed." - -I saw that his whole make-up was very much like Savelko's and I -marveled how men could keep their clear spirits and their happy frame -of mind in this maelstrom of life. - -Seraphim, next to Grisha, was like a clear day in spring compared to a -day in autumn. Nevertheless, they grew more close to each other than to -me. I was a little vexed at this. Soon they both went away together, -Grisha having decided to go to Olonetz, and Seraphim said to me: - -"I will accompany him. Then I will rest a week and return to the -Caucasus. You should come along with us, Matvei. In tramping you will -find more quickly what you are seeking, or you will lose what you have -in excess, which, perhaps, is just as well. They can't bribe God away -from the earth." - -But I could not go along with them, for at that time I was having my -interviews with Mardarie, and I was especially curious about this -ascetic. I saw them off with great sadness, and my quiet evenings and -my happy days went with them. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -Mardarie, the penance monk, lived in a pit in the stone wall behind -the altar. In ancient times this hole was a secret place where the -monastery treasure was hidden from robbers, and there had been a secret -passage to it direct from the altar. The stone vault from this pit had -been taken away, and now it was covered with thick, wooden planks, -and underneath it was built a kind of light cage with a little window -in the ceiling. There was a grating with a railing around it, through -which the pilgrims looked at the ascetic. In a corner was a trap-door, -from which spiral steps led down to Mardarie. It made one dizzy to go -down them. The pit was deep, twelve steps down, and only one ray of -light fell in, and this one did not reach the bottom but melted and -faded away in the damp darkness of this underground dwelling. One had -to look long and steadily through the grating to see somewhere in the -depths of the darkness something still darker which looked like a large -rock or a mound. That was the ascetic, sitting motionless. - -To go down to him the warm, odiferous dampness caught one, and for the -first few seconds nothing could be seen. Then from the gloom would -rise an altar and a black coffin, in which sat, bent over, a little, -gray-haired old man in a dark shroud, decorated with white crosses, -hilts, a reed and a lance, which lay helter-skelter and broken on his -dried-up body. In the corner a round stove hid itself, and from it a -pipe crawled out like a thick worm, while on the brick walls grew green -scales of mildew. A ray of light pierced the darkness like a white -sword, then rusted and broke apart. - -On a pile of shavings the ascetic swayed back and forth as a shadow, -his hands resting on his knees and fingering a rosary. His head was -sunk on his breast and his back was curved like a yoke. - -I remember that I went up to him, fell on my knees and remained silent. -He, too, was silent for a long time, and everything about us seemed -glutted with dead silence. I could not see his face, but only the dark -end of his sharp nose. He whispered to me so that I could hardly hear: - -"Well?" - -I could not answer. Pity for this man who lay alive in his coffin -oppressed and overcame me. He waited a little while, and then again -asked me: - -"What is it? Speak." - -He turned his face toward me. It was all dark, no eyes were to be seen; -only white eyebrows and a mustache and beard, which were like mildew -on the agonized and motionless countenance which was effaced by the -darkness. I heard the rustling of his voice: - -"You argue up there. Why do you argue? You should serve God humbly. -What is there to argue about with God? You should simply love God." - -"I love Him," I answered. - -"Well, perhaps. He punishes you, but you must make believe that you see -nothing and say, 'Praise be unto thee, O Lord.' Say that always, and -nothing more." - -It was evident that it was difficult for him to speak, either from -weakness or because he was unused to it. His words were hardly alive -and his voice was like the trembling of the wings of a dying bird. - -I could not ask the old man anything, for I was sorry to disturb the -peace of his death-waiting, and I feared to startle something; so I -stood there motionless. From above the sound of bells leaked down, -rocking the hair on my head, and I desired ardently to lift up my head -toward the sky and gaze at it, but the darkness pressed down heavily on -my neck and I did not move. - -"Pray," he said to me, "and I will pray for you." - -He became silent again. All was quiet, and a terrible fear made my -flesh creep and filled my breast with icy coldness. A little later he -whispered to me: - -"Are you still here?" - -"Yes." - -"I can't see. Well, go, and God be with you. Don't argue." - -I went out quietly. When I reached the earth above and breathed the -pure air, I was drunk with joy and my head swam. I was all wet as if -I had been in a cave; and he, Mardarie, had been sitting there now the -fourth year! - -I was to have five interviews with him, but I kept silent through them -all; I could not speak. When I went down to him he listened, and then -asked me in his unnatural voice: - -"Some one came--the same one as yesterday?" - -"Yes. It is I." - -Then he began to mumble, with interruptions: - -"Don't offend God--what do you need? You need nothing. Perhaps a little -piece of bread. But to offend God is a sin. That comes from the devil. -The devils, they lend a hand to every one. I know them. They are -offended and they are malicious. They are offended--that is why they -are malicious. So don't get offended, or you will resemble the devil. -People offend you, but you should say to them: 'Christ save you,' and -then go. Everything is vanity. The main thing is yourself. Let them not -take your soul away. Hide it, so that they cannot take it away." - -He sowed his quiet words, and they spread themselves over me like ashes -from a far-off fire. They were not necessary to me, and they did not -touch my soul. It seemed to me I saw a black dream, which I could not -understand and which wearied me very much. - -"You are silent," he said thoughtfully. "That is good. Let them do what -they want, but you keep quiet. Others come to me and they talk--they -talk very much. But I cannot understand what they want. They even talk -about women. What is that to me? They talk about everything. But what -they say about everything, I cannot understand. But you are right to -keep silent. I also would not speak, but the Abbot up there said: -'Console him; he needs to be consoled.' Well, all right. But I myself -would much rather not talk. - -"Oh, God, forgive them all! Everything was taken from me--only prayers -remained to me. Whoever tortures you, take no notice of him. It is the -devils who torture you. They tortured me, too. My own brother, he beat -me, and my wife gave me rat's poison. Evidently I was only a rat to -her. They stole all I had from me, then said that I set fire to the -village. They wanted to throw me into the fire. And I sat in prison. -Everything happened to me. I was judged--sat some more. God be with -them. I pardoned every one--I was not guilty, yet I pardoned. That was -for my own sake. - -"A whole mountain of injury lay on me. I could not breathe. Then I -pardoned them and it went away. The mountain was no more. The devils -were offended and they went away. So you, too, pardon every one. I need -nothing. It will be the same with you." - -At the fourth interview he asked me: - -"Bring me a crumb of bread. I will suck it. I am weak. Pardon me, in -Christ's name." - -My heart ached with pity for him. I listened to his ravings and I -thought: - -"Why is that necessary, O Lord, why?" - -But he still rustled his dry tongue: - -"My bones ache. Night and day they draw. If I sucked a crumb it would -be better perhaps; but this way my bones itch. It disturbs me--it -disturbs my prayers. It is necessary to pray every second, even in -one's dreams. If not, the devil immediately reminds one. He reminds one -of one's name and where one lived, and everything. There he sits on the -stove. It doesn't matter to him if it is hot--sometimes red hot. He -is used to it. He sits himself there, a little, gray thing, opposite -me, and just sits. I cross myself and do not look at him, and he gets -tired. Then he crawls on the wall like a spider, or sometimes he floats -in the air like a gray rag. He can do anything, my devil. He gets bored -with an old man, but he has got to watch me, he has orders to. - -"Of course, it is not pleasant for him to watch an old man. I am not -offended with him. The devil doesn't do it of his own free will, and I -am used to him. 'Well,' I say to him, 41 am tired of you,' and I don't -look at him. He is not bad or evil, only he continually reminds me of -my name." - -Then the old man lifted his head and said loudly: - -"They called me Michail Petrov Viakhiref." - -And then he sank down in his coffin again and whispered: - -"Thus the devil tempts me. Oh, you devil! Are you still here, brother? -Go, and God be with you." - -I could have cried with anger that day. What was the use of this old -man? What beauty was there in his deed? I could not understand it. All -day and many days afterward I thought of him, and I felt that a devil -mocked me and made grimaces at me. - -The last time that I went to him I filled my pockets with soft bread, -and I brought that bread to him, with pain and anger against all -mankind. When I gave it to him he whispered: - -"Oh, it is still warm. Oh!" - -He moved in his coffin. The shavings creaked underneath him while he -hid his bread, whispering: - -"Oh, oh." - -The darkness and the mildewed wall--everything around us moved, -reechoing the low groans of the ascetic--"Oh." - -Four times a week they brought him food. Of course, he was starved. - -This last time he said nothing to me, only sucked the bread. He -evidently had not a tooth left in his head. - -I stood there for some time. Then I said: - -"Well, pardon me, in Christ's name, Father Mardarie. I am going now, -and I won't return again. Let me thank you." - -"Yes, yes," he answered eagerly. "It is I who thank you; it is I who -thank you. But don't tell the monks about the bread. They will take it -away. They are jealous, the monks are. No doubt the devils know them, -too. The devils know everything and everybody--say nothing about it." - -Soon after this he became ill and died. They buried him with solemnity. -The Bishop came from the city with all his clergy, and they held a -Cathedral Mass. Afterward I heard that under the tombstone of the old -man a little blue fire burns of itself at night. - -How pitiful it all was and how disgraceful to man! - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -Soon after this my life changed entirely. Even while Grisha was here an -ugly incident happened to me. Once I went into the ante-room and caught -Misha in an act which gave the lie to his constant and disgusting -denunciation of women as unclean. It was inexpressibly disgusting -to me, for I remembered all the filth which he spoke about women; I -remembered his hatred of them; and I spat and escaped to the bakery, -trembling with wrath and shame and bitterness. He followed me, fell on -his knees, and begged me not to tell. - -"I know that she torments you at night, too. The power of the devil is -strong." - -"You lie," I said. "Go to all the devils, you pig. And you bake bread, -you dog!" - -I insulted him, for I could not contain myself. - -If he had not soiled all womankind with his dirty words, I would not -have minded it so much. - -But he crawled before me and begged me not to tell. - -"Well," I said, "can one speak about such things? It is too shameful. -But I don't want to work with you. Tell them to give me other work." - -I insisted on that. - -At this time people were not yet alive or clear to me, and I strove -only for one thing: to keep myself apart. - -Misha became ill and lay in the hospital. I worked as of old and was -given two assistants to help me. - -Three weeks passed, when suddenly the steward called me and told me -that Misha had recovered but did not want to work with me because of my -obstinate nature; and therefore in the meantime I would be ordered to -dig stumps out of the wood. This work was considered a punishment. - -"Why?" I asked. - -Suddenly the handsome monk, Father Anthony, entered the office, stood -modestly aside and listened. The steward continued to explain to me: - -"Because of your obstinate nature and your impudent opinions about the -brothers. At your age and in your condition, it is foolish; unbearable; -and you must be punished. But the Father Superior, in his goodness, -said that we should take you over to the office for easy work. And that -is how it may turn out." - -He spoke for a long time, in a singsong voice and without feeling; and -I saw that it did not come from his conscience, but that he dragged one -word after another from duty. - -Father Anthony leaned against a bench, looked at me, stroked his beard -and smiled with his beautiful eyes as if he were joking with me about -something. - -I wished to show him my character and said to the steward: - -"I don't seek to be raised, nor do I wish to accept humiliation, for I -do not deserve it, as you know, but I want justice." - -The steward grew red in the face and beat the ground with his stick. - -"Keep silent, insolent one!" - -Father Anthony bent to his ear and said something. - -"It is impossible," answered the steward. "He is to take his punishment -without a murmur." - -Anthony shrugged his shoulders and turned toward me. His voice was low -and warm: - -"Submit, Matvei." - -He conquered me with his two words and his caressing look. I bowed to -the steward and to him, and then I asked the steward when I must go to -the wood. - -"In three days," he answered. "But these three days you must go to the -dungeon--that's what." - -If Anthony had not been there I certainly would have broken the -steward's bones. But I took Anthony's words as a sign of the -possibility to get near him, and for this I was ready to cut off my -right arm--anything. - -They sent me down to the dungeon. It was a hole underneath the office, -in which it was impossible to stand or lie down; one had to sit. Straw -was thrown on the floor, but it was wet from dampness. And it was -quiet as a grave, not even mice were there; and such darkness that the -hands disappeared. If you put your hands before your face they were not -visible. - -I sat there and was silent, and everything in me seemed poured from -lead. I was heavy as stone, and cold as ice. - -I clinched my teeth for I wished to hold back my thoughts; but they -flamed up within me like coals and burned me. I could have bitten -somebody, but there was no one to bite. I caught my hair with my hands, -swayed back and forth like the tongue of a bell, and shrieked and raved -and roared within: - -"Where is Thy justice, O Lord? Do not the lawless play with it? And -do not the strong trample it in their evil, drunken power? What am I -before Thee? A lawless sacrifice or a keeper of Thy beauty and justice?" - -I recalled the arrangement of the life in the monastery. It stood -before me, ugly and cynical. - -And why did they call the monks the servants of God? In what way were -they holier than laymen? I knew the difficult peasant life in the -villages. They lived starved and wretched. They drank, they fought, -they stole, they committed every sin. But was not His path unseen? And -they had no strength to struggle for righteousness; nor time. Each one -was attached to the soil and tied to his house with a strong chain--the -fear of starvation. What could one ask of them? - -But here men lived free and satisfied. Here books and wisdom were -open to them. But which one of them served God? Only the weak and the -bloodless, like Grisha, remained faithful to God, who to the others -was only a protector of sins and a source of lies. I remembered the -evil lust of the monks for women and all their offenses of the flesh, -which even the animals disdained--and their laziness and gluttony; -their quarrels over the distribution of the funds, when they cawed -maliciously at one another like ravens in a cemetery. - -Grisha told me that no matter how much the peasants worked for the -monastery, their indebtedness grew continually. I thought of myself: -"Here I have already spent a long time and what has my soul profited? -I have received only wounds and sores. How has my intelligence been -enriched? Only by the knowledge of all kinds of baseness and of -loathing for man." - -Around me was silence. Even the sound of the bells, by which I could -have measured time, did not reach me, and there was neither day nor -night for me. Who dared to take away the sun from man? - -The rank darkness oppressed me, and my soul was consumed by it. There -was nothing left to light my path. The faith which was dear to my -heart, the justice and omniscience of God, sank and melted away. - -But like a bright star the face of Father Anthony flashed before me, -and all my thoughts and feelings circled around it like a moth around -a flame. I conversed with him, and complained to him, and asked him -questions, and saw his two caressing eyes in the darkness. - -I paid dearly for those three days and I went out of the hole blinded, -my head feeling as if it were not my own, and my knees trembling. The -monks laughed at me. - -"What," they said, "you took a good soul-bath, eh?" - -At night the Abbot called me, made me kneel before him, and gave me a -long lecture. - -"It is written that I shall crush the teeth of the sinner and bend his -back in the yoke." - -I was silent and controlled my heart. The peacemaker, Father Anthony, -stood before me, and stilled my evil mouth with his affectionate look. -Suddenly the Abbot softened. - -"We value you, you fool," he said. "We think of you. We have noticed -your zeal in work and wish to reward your intelligence. I even place -before you a choice of two duties. Do you want to work in the office, -or do you want to be a lay brother to Father Anthony?" - -I felt as if I had been revived with warm water. I was stifled with joy -and could hardly speak: - -"Permit me to be a lay brother." - -He frowned, became thoughtful, and looked at me curiously. - -"If you go to the office," he said, "I will take away the stump -digging; but if you go as a lay brother, I will increase the work in -the woods." - -"Permit me to be a lay brother." - -He asked me sternly: - -"Why, you fool! The work is easier in the office, and more respectable." - -I insisted. He bowed his head and thought a while. - -"I permit it. You are a strange fellow, and one should not lose sight -of you. Who knows what fires you will light--who knows? Go in peace." - -I went to the wood. It was spring then, cold April. The work was hard, -the wood an ancient one. The main roots went deep into the earth; the -side ones were big. I dug and dug, and chopped and chopped; tied the -trunk and made the horse pull out the stump. He tried with all his -strength, but only broke the harness. Already by noon my bones felt -broken and my horse trembled and was covered with foam. He looked at me -out of his round eyes, as if he wished to say: "I cannot, brother; it -is hard." - -I petted him and slapped his neck. "I see," I said. And again I dug and -chopped and the horse looked at me, his hide trembling and his head -nodding. Horses are intelligent, and I am sure that they perceive all -the senseless actions of man. - -At this time I had an encounter with Misha, which came near ending -badly for both of us. Once I went to my work after the noon-day meal, -and had already reached the wood when suddenly he overtook me, club in -hand, his face wild, his teeth showing, and panting like a bear. What -did it mean? - -I stopped and waited for him. He did not say a word, but brandished his -club at me. I bent in time, and struck him below the belt with my head. -I threw him down, sat on his chest, and took away his club. - -"What is the matter with you?" I asked him. "What's this for?" - -He struggled underneath me and said hoarsely: - -"Get out of the monastery!" - -"Why?" - -"I can't look at you. I'll kill you! Get out of here!" - -His eyes were red. The tears that came out seemed red, and his lips -were covered with foam. He tore at my clothes; he scratched and pinched -me, anxious to reach my face. I shook him lightly and arose from his -chest. - -"You wear the garb of a monk," I said, "and yet you are capable of such -vileness, you brute! Why?" - -He sat in the mud and demanded, obstinately: - -"Get out of here! Don't make me lose my soul!" - -I did not understand him. Finally I made a guess, and asked him low: - -"Perhaps, Misha, you think I told some one about your wretched sin? It -is not so. I told no one about it." - -He arose, swayed, held on to the tree and looked at me with his wild -eyes. - -"I wish you had told it to the whole world!" he roared. "It would be -easier for me! I could repent before others and they would forgive -me. But you, scoundrel, despise every one. I do not want to be under -obligations to you, you proud heretic. Get out, or I'll have the sin of -blood on me!" - -"If that is the way it is," I said, "go away yourself, if you have to. -I won't go--that is sure." - -He again jumped on me, and we both fell into the mud, getting dirty -like frogs. I proved to be the stronger, and arose, but he still lay -there, weeping and miserable. - -"Listen, Misha," I said. "I am going away a little later. Now I can't. -I am not staying out of spite, but because I have to. I have got to be -here." - -"Go to your father, the devil," he groaned, and gnashed his teeth. - -I went away from him, and a little while later he was ordered to go to -the monastic inn in the city, and I never saw him again. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -When my penance was finished I stood before Anthony, dressed in new -clothes. I remember this period of my life from the first day to the -last; everything, even to each word, was burned into my soul and cut -into my flesh. - -He led me to his cells quietly, and taught me in detail how and when -and in what way I was to serve him. - -One room was arranged with book-cases, full of worldly and religious -books. "This," he said, "is my chapel." - -In the center of the room stood a large table, near the window an -upholstered armchair, and toward one side of the table a divan covered -with rich tapestry. In front of the table there was a chair with a high -back, covered with pressed leather. - -A second room was his bedroom. It had a wide bed, a wardrobe filled -with cassocks and linen, a wash stand with a large mirror, many brushes -and combs and gaily colored perfume bottles. And on the walls of the -third room, which was uninviting and empty, were two closed cupboards, -one for wine and food and the other for china, pastry, preserves and -sweets. - -Having finished this inspection, he led me to his library and said: - -"Take a seat. So, this is the way I live. Not like a monk, eh?" - -"No," I answered; "not quite according to rule." - -"Well, you condemn every one. I suppose you will condemn me soon, too." - -He smiled, haughty as a bell tower. - -I loved him for his beautiful face, but his smile was disagreeable to -me. - -"I do not know whether I will condemn you," I said. "I certainly would -like to understand you." - -He laughed low, in a base, which was offensive to me. - -"You are illegitimate?" he asked. - -"Yes." - -"You have good blood in your veins?" - -"What is good blood?" I asked. - -He laughed, then answered impressively. - -"Good blood is something from which proud souls are made." - -The day was clear, the sun shone in through the window, and Anthony sat -entirely covered by its rays. Suddenly an unexpected thought flashed -through my head and pierced my heart like the bite of a snake. I jumped -from my chair and stared hard at the monk. He, too, arose, and I saw -that he picked up a knife from the table and played with it, asking: - -"What is the matter with you?" - -"Are you not my father?" I asked him. - -His face became drawn, immovable and blue, as if it were carved from -ice. He half closed his eyes so that the light went out of them, and -said, almost in a whisper: - -"I think--not. Where were you born? When? How old are you? Who is your -mother?" - -And as I told him how I was abandoned he smiled and put the knife back -on the table. - -"I was not in the district at that time," he answered. - -I became embarrassed and uncomfortable. It was as if I had begged for -charity and been refused. - -"Well," he said, "and if I had been your father, what then?" - -"Nothing," I answered. - -"Exactly. That is the way I think about it. We are living together in a -place where there are no fathers and no children in the flesh, only in -the spirit. On the other hand, we are all abandoned on this earth--that -is, we are brothers in misery, which we call life. Man is an accident -in life, do you know that?" - -I read in his eyes that he was making fun of me. I was still laboring -under the unpleasant impression which my strange and incomprehensible -question had aroused in me, and I would have liked to explain the -question to him or to forget it altogether. But I made matters worse by -asking: - -"Why did you take that knife in your hand?" Anthony gazed at me and -then laughed low: - -"You are a bold questioner. I took it because I took it, and why I -really do not know. I like it; it is a very pretty thing." - -And he gave me the knife. It was sharp and pointed, with a design in -gold laid on the steel, and a silver handle, with red stones. - -"It is an Arabian knife," he explained to me. "I use it for cutting -pages of books, and at night I put it under my pillow. There is a rumor -abroad that I am rich and there are poor people living about me, and my -cell is out of the way." - -The knife as well as the hands of Anthony had a rich, peculiar perfume, -which almost intoxicated me and made my head swim. - -"Let us talk a little more," Anthony continued in his low, deep, soft -voice. "Do you know that a woman comes to see me?" - -"So I heard." - -"It is not true that she is my sister. I sleep with her." - -"Why do you talk of these things to me?" I asked. - -"So that you will be shocked once and for all and not continue to be -surprised. You like worldly books?" - -"I have never read them." - -He took from the book-case a little book bound in red leather and gave -it to me. - -"Go, prepare the samovar and read this," he said, in a tone of command. - -I opened the book, and on the very first page I found a picture--a -woman naked to her knees and a man in front of her, also naked. - -"I will not read this," I said. - -Then he turned to me and said sternly: - -"And if your spiritual superior orders you to? How do you know why this -is necessary? Go." - -In the annex where my room was I sat down on my bed, overcome by -fear and sadness. I felt as if I had been poisoned; I was weak and -trembling. I did not know what to think; I could not understand. From -where did the thought come that he was my father? It was a strange idea. - -I remembered his words about the soul: "The soul is made of blood." And -about man: "That he is an accident on earth." All this was so plainly -heretical. I remembered his drawn face at my question. - -I opened the book again. It was a story about some French cavalier and -about women. What did I want with it? - -He rang for me and called. I came in, and he met me in a friendly -manner. - -"Where is the samovar?" - -"Why did you give me this book?" - -"So that you would know what sin is." - -I became happy again. It seemed to me I understood his object; he -wished to educate me. I bowed low, went out, prepared the samovar -eagerly and brought it back into the room, where Anthony had already -prepared everything for tea. And as I was going out he said: - -"Remain and drink tea with me." - -I was grateful to him, for I wanted to understand something very much. - -"Tell me," he said, "how you have lived and why you came here." - -I began to tell him about myself, not hiding from him my most secret -impulse, not a thought which I could remember. And he listened to me -with half-closed eyes, so engrossed that he did not even drink his tea. - -Behind him the evening looked in at the window, and against the red sky -the black branches of the trees made their outline. - -But I talked all the time and gazed on the white fingers of Anthony's -hands, which were folded on his breast. When I had finished he poured -out a little glass of dark sweet wine for me. - -"Drink," he said. "I noticed you when you prayed aloud in the church. -The monastery doesn't help much, does it?" - -"No; but in you I place great hope. Help me. You are a learned man; you -must know everything." - -"I only know one thing: You go up the mountain, reach the top, and -fall--you fall to the very depth of the precipice. But I myself do -not follow this law because I am too lazy. Man is a worthless thing, -Matvei; but why he is worthless, is not clear. Life is exquisite and -the world enchanting. So many pleasures are given to man, and man is -worthless. Why? This is a puzzle I cannot solve, and I do not even wish -to think about it." - -Vespers rang. He started and said: - -"Go, and God be with you. I am tired, and I must attend service." - -Had I been wiser I would have left him that very day, for then I would -have preserved a pleasant memory of him. But I did not understand the -meaning of his words. - -I went to my room, lay down, and noticed the little book which lay at -my side. I struck a light and began to read it out of gratitude for my -superior. I read how the cavalier I mentioned above deceived husbands, -climbing to their wives at night through the windows, and how the -husbands spied on him; how they wished to pierce him with their swords -and how he escaped. - -And all this was very stupid and unintelligible to me; that is, I -understood well enough that a young fellow might enjoy it, but I could -not understand why it was written about, and I could not fathom why I -had read such nonsense. - -And again I began to think: "How did I suddenly come upon the thought -that Anthony was my father?" This thought ate my soul as rust eats -iron. Then I fell asleep. - -In my dream I felt that some one touched me. I jumped up. He stood near -me. - -"I rang and rang for you," he said. - -"Forgive me," I said, "in Christ's name. I have worked very hard." - -"I know," he answered. But he did not say, "God forgive you." - -"I am going to the Father Abbot. Make everything ready, as it should -be. Ah, you have read the book! It is too bad you have begun it. It is -not quite for you. You were right; you need another kind." - -I prepared his bed. The linen was thin, the cover soft; everything was -rich and new to me; and a delicate, pleasant odor emanated from all. - -And so I began to live in this intoxicating world, as in a dream. I saw -no one but Anthony. But even he seemed as if he were in a shadow and -moved in shadows. He spoke in a friendly tone, but his eyes mocked. -He seldom used the word God; instead of God he said soul; instead of -devil, nature. - -But for me the meaning of his words did not change. He made fun of the -monks and of the church orders. He drank very much wine, but he never -staggered in walking, only his forehead became a bluish-white and his -eyes glowed with a dark fire, and his red lips grew darker and drier. - -It happened often that he came back from the Abbot at midnight or even -later, and he woke me and ordered that I bring him wine. He sat and -drank, spoke to himself in his low voice long and uninterruptedly, -sitting there sometimes till matins were called. - -It was difficult for me to understand his words, and I have forgotten -many of them, but I remember how at first they frightened me, as if -they had suddenly opened some terrible abyss in which the whole face -of the earth was swallowed up. Often a feeling of emptiness and misery -came over me because of his words, and I was ready to ask him: - -"And you, are you not the devil?" - -He was gloomy, spoke in a tone of command, and when he was drunk his -eyes became even more mysterious, sinking far into his head. On his -face a smile twitched continually, and his fingers, which were thin and -long, opened and closed and pulled at his blue-black beard. A coldness -emanated from him. He was terrifying. - -As I have said, I did not believe in the devil, and I knew that it -was written that the devil was strong in his pride; that he fought -continually; that his passion and his skill lay in tempting people. - -But Father Anthony in no way tempted me. He clothed life in gray, -showed it to me as something insane, and people for him were only a -herd of crazy swine who were dashing to the abyss with varying rapidity. - -"But you have said that life is beautiful," I said. - -"Yes, if it recognizes me it is beautiful," he answered. - -Only his laugh remained with me. He seemed to me to gaze upon -everything from his corner as if he had been driven away from -everywhere and was not even hurt at being driven away. - -His thoughts were sharp and penetrating, subtle like a snake, but -powerless to conquer me, for I did not believe them, although often I -was ravished by their cleverness and by the great leaps of the human -mind. - -At times, though this happened seldom, he became angry with me. - -"I am a nobleman!" he shouted. "A descendant of a great race of people! -My fathers founded Russia! They are historical figures, and this -lout--this dirty lout dares to interrupt me! The beautiful dies, only -the worms remain, and only one man of a distinguished family among -them." - -His expressions did not interest me. I, too, perhaps, came from a -distinguished family. But surely strength did not lie in ancestry, but -in truth, and though the evening will surely not come again, the morrow -comes. - -He sat in his armchair and talked, his face bloodless. - -"Again the monks have won from me, Matvei. What is a monk? A man -who wishes to hide from his fellow men his own vileness and who is -afraid of its power over him. Or, perhaps, a man who is overcome by -his weakness, and flees from the world in fear, that the world may -not devour him. Such monks are the better and more interesting; but -the others are only homeless men, dust of the earth, or still-born -children." - -"What are you among them?" I asked. - -I might have asked this ten times or more straight to his face, but he -answered me always in this way: - -"Man is a child of accident on this earth, everywhere and forever." - -His God, too, was a mystery to me. I tried to ask him about God when -he was sober, but he only laughed and answered with some well-known -quotation. - -But God was higher to me than anything that was ever written about Him. - -I asked him when he was drunk how he saw God then. But even drunk, -Anthony was firm. - -"Ah, you are cunning, Matvei," he answered. "Cunning and obstinate. I -am sorry for you." - -I, too, was sorry for him, for I saw his solitude and I valued the -abundance of his thoughts, and I was sorry that they were being sown at -random in his cell. But though I was sorry for him, still I persisted -firmly in my questions, and once he said, unwillingly: - -"I no more see God than you, Matvei." - -"Though I do not see God," I answered, "still I feel Him and do not -question His existence, but only try to understand His laws, upon which -our earth is based." - -"As for the laws," he said, "look in the book on Canonical Rights, and -if you feel God then--I shall congratulate you." - -He poured out some wine, clinked glasses with me and drank. I noticed -that, though his face was as grave as that of a corpse, the beautiful -eyes of the gentleman mocked at me. The fact that he was a gentleman -began to lessen my feelings for him, for he unfolded his birth to me so -often that he made me boil with anger. - -When he was somewhat drunk, he liked to speak about women. - -"Nature," he would say, "has kept us in an evil and heavy bondage -through woman, its sweetest allurement; and had we not this carnal -temptation, which saps out the best from the soul of man, he could have -attained immortality." - -Since Brother Misha had spoken about the same theme, though more -heatedly, I was disgusted by this time with such thoughts. Misha had -renounced woman with hatred and defamed her furiously; but Father -Anthony adjudged her without any feelings and tiresomely. - -"Do you remember," he said, "I once gave you a book? If you read it you -must have seen how woman in her whole make-up is cunning and full of -lies, and debauched to the very bottom." - -It was strange, and it hurt me to hear man, born of woman and nourished -with her life, besmirch and trample upon his own mother, denying -her everything but the flesh; degrading her to a senseless animal. -At times I expressed my thoughts to him, though vaguely; not so -distinctly. He became outraged and shouted. - -"Idiot! Was I talking about my own mother?" - -"Every woman is a mother," I answered. - -"There are some," he shouted, "who are only loose women all their -lives." - -"Well," I answered, "there are some who are hunchbacked; but that is -not the law for all." - -"Get out of here, fool!" - -Evidently the officer was not dead in him. - -Several times when I asked about God, we wrangled with each other. He -angered me with his sly wit, and one evening I went at him with all my -might. My character grew bad, for I passed through great suffering at -this time. I circled around Anthony like a hungry man around a locked -pantry; he smells the bread through the door, and it only tends to -madden him. And the night to which I refer, his evasions enraged me. I -caught up the knife from the table and cried: - -"Tell me everything you believe or I will cut my throat, come what may!" - -He became frightened, grabbed my hand, wrenched the knife from me and -grew very much excited--not at all like himself. - -"You should be punished for this," he said, "but no punishment ever -helps fanaticism." - -And then he added, and his words were like nails beaten into my head: - -"This is what I will tell you: only man exists. Everything else is an -opinion. Your God is a dream of your soul. You can only know yourself, -and even that not certainly." - -His words shook me like a storm and ravaged me. He spoke for a long -time, and though I did not understand everything, I felt that in this -man was no sorrow or joy or fear, or sensitiveness, or pride. He was -like an old church-yard priest, reading the mass for the dead, near -a tomb. He knew the words well, but they did not touch his soul. His -words were frightful to me at first, but later I understood that the -doubt in them was without force, for they were dead. - -It was May, the window was open, and the night in the garden was filled -with a warm perfume of flowers. The apple trees were like young girls -going to communion--a delicate blue in the silver moonlight. - -The watchman beat the hours, and in the stillness the bronze resounded -lugubriously. - -Before me sat a man with a face of stone, calmly emitting bloodless -words--words which vanished and were gray like ashes. They were -offensive and painful to me, for I saw brass where I had expected gold. - -"Go now," said Anthony to me. - -I went into the garden, and when early mass was rung I entered the -church, went into a dark corner and stood there, thinking, what need -of God had a man who was half dead? - -The brothers assembled. One would say it was the moonlight which broke -the shadows of night into a thousand fragments and which noiselessly -crawled into the temple to hide. - -From this time something incomprehensible happened. Anthony began -speaking to me in the tone of a gentleman, dry and crossly, and he -never called me to him in a friendly way. All the books which he had -given me to read he took away. One of them was a Russian history which -had many surprises for me, but I got no chance to finish it. I tried to -fathom in what way I had offended this gentleman of mine, but I could -not. - -The beginning of his speech was engraven in my memory and lived -uppermost in my mind, though not troubling my other thoughts: "God is -the dream of your soul," I repeated to myself. But I did not feel the -necessity of debating this; it was an easy thought. - -Soon a woman came to him. It was late at night. Anthony rang for me and -cried: - -"Quick--the samovar!" - -When I brought it in I saw a woman sitting on the divan, in a wide pink -dress, blonde disheveled curls hanging over her shoulders, and a little -pink face, like a doll's, with light-blue eyes. She seemed to me modest -and sad. - -I placed the dishes on the table, and Anthony hurried me all the while. - -"Do it quicker--hurry." - -"He is aflame," I said to myself. - -I liked his love affairs, for it was pleasant to see how skilful -Anthony was even in love--a thing which is not very difficult. - -As for myself, love left me cold at this time, and the looseness of the -monks kept me away from it. But what kind of a monk was Father Anthony? - -The woman was pretty in her way, a delicate little thing, like a new -toy. - -In the morning I went into the room to set it to rights. But he was not -there, having gone to the Abbot. She sat on the divan, her feet under -her, uncombed and half dressed. She asked me what I was called. I told -her. Then she asked me if I had been in the monastery a long time, and -I answered that question also. - -"Don't you get bored here?" - -"No," I answered. - -"That's strange--if it's true." - -"Why should it not be true?" I asked. - -"You are so young and good-looking." - -"Is the monastery only for cripples?" - -She laughed and put out a bare foot from the divan. She looked at me -and let herself be seen immodestly; exposed, her arms bare to the -shoulder and her gown unfastened at the breast. - -"You do that in vain," I thought. "You should keep your charms for your -lover." - -And the little fool asked me: - -"Don't women bother you?" - -"I don't see them," I answered. "How can they bother me?" - -"What do you mean by 'how'?" And she laughed. - -Anthony appeared in the door and asked angrily: - -"What is this, Zoia?" - -"Oh," she cried, "he is so funny--that one!" And she began to chatter -and tell how "funny" I was. - -But Anthony did not listen to her, and commanded me sternly: - -"Go and unpack the trunks and the bags. Then take part of the -provisions to the Abbot." - -Even before dinner both of them had taken enough wine, and in the -evening, after tea, the woman was entirely drunk, and Anthony, too, -seemed more drunk than usual. They drove me from one corner to the -other--to bring this, to carry that; to heat the wine, then to cool it. - -I ran about like a waiter in a drinking place, and they became more and -more free before me. The young lady was hot and took off some of her -clothes, and the gentleman suddenly asked me: - -"Matvei, isn't she pretty?" - -"Pretty enough," I answered. - -"But look at her well." - -She laughed, drunk. - -I wanted to go out, but Anthony called out, wildly: - -"Where are you going? Stay here! Zoiaka, show yourself naked!" - -I thought I had not heard rightly, but she pulled off a gown she had -on and stood upon her feet, swaying. I looked at Anthony and he looked -back at me. My heart beat loudly, for I pitied this man. Vulgarities -did not quite fit him, and I was ashamed for the woman. Then he shouted: - -"Get out of here, you lout!" - -"You are a lout yourself!" I retorted. - -He jumped up, overthrowing the bottles on the table. The dishes fell to -the ground with a crash; something began to flow hastily, like a lonely -stream. I went out into the garden and lay down. My heart ached like a -bone that is frozen. In the stillness I heard Anthony cry out: - -"Out with you!" - -And a woman's voice whined: - -"Don't you dare, you fool!" - -Soon the harnessing of horses was heard in the courtyard, and their -dissatisfied neighing and stampings on the dry earth. Doors were -slammed, the wheels of a carriage rattled, and then the large gates -creaked. - -Anthony walked through the garden, calling low: - -"Matvei, where are you?" - -His tall figure moved among the apple trees and he caught at the -branches and let fall the perfumed snow of flowers, muttering: - -"Oh, the fool!" - -And behind him, dragging along the ground, was his thick, heavy shadow. - -I lay in the garden until morning, and then went to Father Isador. - -"Give me back my passport. I am going away." - -He was so startled that he jumped up. - -"Why? Where?" - -"Somewhere--in the world. I don't know where," I answered. - -He began to question me. - -"I will not explain anything," I said. - -I went out from his cell and sat down near it on the bench underneath -the old pine tree. I sat there on purpose, for it was the bench on -which those who were driven away, or went of their own free will, sat, -as if to announce the fact of their departure. - -The brothers passed me, and looked at me sideways; some even spat at -me. I forgot to say that there had been a rumor that Anthony had taken -me as his lover. The Neophytes envied me and the monks envied that -gentleman of mine. And they slandered both of us. - -The brothers passed, saying to each other: - -"Ah, they have driven him away; thanked be the Lord!" - -Father Assaf, a sly and malicious old man, who acted as the Abbot's -spy, and was known in the monastery as a half-witted hypocrite, -attacked me with vile words, so that I said to him: - -"Go away, old man. If not I will take you by the ear and put you away." - -Although he was half-witted, as I said, he understood my words. - -The head of the monastery called me to him and spoke in a friendly tone: - -"I told you, Matvei, my son, that it would have been better to have -entered the office, and I was right. Old men always know more. Do you -think with your obstinate nature that you could act as a servant? Here -you have shamefully insulted the revered Father Anthony." - -"He told you that?" - -"Who, then? You have not said anything." - -"Did he tell you that he showed me a naked woman?" - -The Father Abbot made a cross over me from holy fright and said, -shaking his hands: - -"What is the matter with you? What is the matter with you? God be with -you! What kind of a woman? That is some dream of yours, coming from the -flesh; a creation of the devil. Oh, oh, oh! You should think of your -words. How can a woman be in a monastery of men?" - -I wanted to calm him. - -"Who, then, brought you the port wine, and the cheese, and the caviar -last night?" - -"What are you saying? Christ save you. How can you think up such -things?" - -It was disgusting and enough to drive one insane. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -At noon I crossed the lake, sat down on the bank and gazed at the -monastery where I had slaved for over two years. - -The wood spread out before me with its green wings and disclosed the -monastery on its breast. The scalloped white walls, the blue head of -the old church, the golden cupola of the new cathedral and the striped -red roofs stood out clearly from the splendid green. The crosses -glowed, shining and inviting, and above them the blue bell of heaven -sounded the joyful peace of spring, while the sun rejoiced in its -victory. - -In this beauty which inflated the soul with its keen splendor, black -men in long garments hid themselves and rotted away, living empty days -without love, without joy in senseless labor and in mire. - -I pitied them and myself, too, so that I almost wept. I arose and went -on. - -Perfume was over all, the earth and all that lived sang, the sun drew -forth the flowers in the field and they lifted themselves up toward the -sky and made their obeisance to the sun. The young trees whispered and -swayed, the birds twittered and love burned everywhere on the fruitful -earth which was drunk with its owm strength. - -I met a peasant and greeted him, but he hardly nodded. I met a woman -and she evaded me. And all the time I had a great desire to speak with -people, and I would have spoken to them with a friendly heart. - -I spent the first night of my freedom in the woods. I lay long, gazed -up at the sky and sang low to myself and fell asleep. In the early -morning I awoke from cold, and walked on, racing to meet my new life as -if on wings. Each step took me farther away, and I was ready to outrun -the distance. - -The people whom I met looked suspiciously at me and stepped aside. The -black dress of the monk was disgusting and inimical to the peasants, -but I could not take it off. My passport had expired, but the Abbot -made a note under it which said that I was a novice of the monastery of -Savateffsky and that I was on my way to visit holy places. - -So I directed my steps to these places together with those wanderers -who fill our monastery by hundreds on holidays. The brothers were -indifferent or hostile to them, calling them parasites and robbing them -of every penny they had. They forced them to do the monastery work and -imposed on them and treated them with contempt. I was always busied -with my own affairs and seldom met the newcomers. I did not seek to -meet them, for I considered myself something quite extraordinary and -placed my own inner self above everything else. - -I saw gray figures with knapsacks on their backs and staffs in their -hands creeping and swaying along the roads and paths, going not -hurriedly but depressed, with heads bent low, walking humbly and -thoughtfully, with credulous, opened hearts. They flowed together in -one place, looked about them, prayed silently and worked a bit. If a -wise and virtuous man happened to be there they talked with him low -about something, and again spread out upon the paths going to other -places with sad steps. - -They walked, old and young, women and children, as if one voice called -them, and I felt from this crossing and recrossing of the earth a -strength arise from the paths which caught me also, and alarmed me and -promised to open my soul. This restless and humble wandering seemed -strange to me after my motionless life. - -It was as if earth herself tore man from her breast and pushed him -forth, ordering him imperiously, "Go, find out, learn." And man goes -obediently and carefully, seeks and looks and listens attentively, -then goes on farther again. The earth resounds under the feet of the -searchers and drives them farther over streams and mountains and -through forests and over seas, still farther wherever the monasteries -stand solitary, offering some miracle, and wherever a hope breathes of -something other than this bitter, difficult and narrow life. - -The quiet agitation of the lonely souls surprised me and made me human, -and I began to wonder, - -"What are these people seeking?" Everything about me swayed, frightened -and wandering like myself. - -Many like myself sought God, but did not know where to go and strewed -their souls on the paths of their seeking, and were going on only -because they did not have strength enough to stop, acting like the seed -of the dandelion in the wind, light and purposeless. - -Others unable to shake off their laziness carried it on their -shoulders, lowering themselves and living by lies, while still others -were enthralled by the desire to see everything, but had no strength in -them to love. - -I saw many empty men and degraded rascals, shameless parasites, greedy -like roaches. I saw many such, but they were only the dust behind the -great crowd filled with the desire of finding God. - -Irresistibly this crowd dragged me along with it. - -And around it like gulls over the sea various winged people circled -noisily and greedily, who astonished me with their monstrous -deformities. - -Once in Bielo-ozer I saw a middle-aged man with a haughty mien. He was -cleanly dressed and evidently a man of means. - -He had seated himself in the shade of a tree, and had pieces of cloth, -a box of salve and a copper basin near him, and kept crying out: - -"Orthodox, those with sore feet from overstraining, come here; I will -heal them. I heal free because of a vow I have taken upon myself in -the name of the Lord." - -It was a church holiday in Bielo-ozer and the pilgrims had flocked -there in great numbers. They came up to him, sat down, unwound the -wrappings on their feet, while he washed them, spread salve on the -wounds and lectured them. - -"Eh, brother, you are not over-wise. Your sandal is too large for -your foot. How can you walk like this?" The man with the large sandal -answered in a low voice, "It was given to me in charity." - -"He who gave it to you has pleased God, but that you should walk in it -is your own foolishness, and there is nothing great about your deed. -God will not count it to your credit." - -Well, I thought, here is a man who knows God's meanings. - -A woman came up to him, limping. - -"Oh, young one," he called out, "you have no corn, but the French -sickness, permit me to tell you. This, Orthodox, is a contagious -disease. Whole families die from it, and it is hard to get rid of." The -woman became confused, rose and went away with her eyes lowered, and he -continued calling: - -"Come here, Orthodox, in the name of St. Cyril." - -People went up to him, unwound their feet and groaned, and said "Christ -save you!" while he washed them. - -I noticed that his refined face twitched as in a cramp and his skilful -hands trembled. Soon he closed up his pious shop and ran off somewhere -quickly. - -At night a little old monk led me to a shed, and there I saw the same -man. I lay down next to him and began to speak low: - -"How is it, sir, that you spend the night together with these common -people? To judge by your clothes, your place is in the inn." - -"I have taken an oath to be among the lowest of the low for three -months. I want to fulfil my pious work to the very end, and let myself -be eaten up by lice with the rest of them. I really cannot bear to see -wounds--they make me sick; still, no matter how disgusting it is to me, -I wash the feet of the pilgrims every day. It is a difficult service to -the Lord, but my hope in His mercy is great." - -I lost my desire to speak to him, and, making believe I had fallen -asleep, I lay thinking, "his sacrifice to God is not over great." - -The straw underneath my neighbor rustled. He arose carefully, knelt -down and prayed, at first silently, but later I heard his whispered -words: - -"Oh, thou, St. Cyril, intercede before God for me, a sinner, and make -Him heal me of my wounds and sores as I have healed the wounds of men. -All-seeing God, value my labors and help me. My life is in Thy hands. -I know that my passions were violent, but Thou hast already punished -me enough. Do not abandon me like a dog, and let not Thy people drive -me away, I beg of Thee, and let my prayers arise toward Thee like the -smoke of incense." Here was a man who had mistaken God for a doctor. It -was unbearable to me, and I closed my ears with my hands. - -When he had finished praying he took out something to eat from his bag -and chewed for a long time, like a boar. - -I have met many such people. At night they creep before their God, -while in the day they walk pitilessly over the breasts of men. They -lower God to do the duty of hiding their vile actions, and they bribe -him and bargain with him. - -"Do not forget, O Lord, how much I have given Thee." - -Blind slaves of greed, they place it high above themselves and bow down -to this hideous idol of the dark and cowardly souls and pray to it. - -"O Lord, do not judge me in Thy severity nor punish me in Thy wrath." - -They walk upon earth like spies of God and judges of men, and watch -sharply for any violation of the church laws. They bustle and flock -together, accusing and complaining. "Faith is being extinguished in the -hearts of people; woe unto us!" - -One man especially amused me with his zeal. We walked together from -Perejaslavlja to Rostoff, and the whole way he kept crying out to me, -"Where are the holy laws of Feodor Studite?" - -He was well fed, healthy, with a black beard and rosy cheeks; had -money, and at night mixed with the women in the inns. - -"When I saw how the laws were violated and the people depraved," -he said to me, "all the peace of my soul went from me. I gave _my_ -business, which was a brick factory, to my sons to manage, and here I -am, wandering about for four years, watching everything, and horror -fills my soul. Rats have crawled into the Holy Sacristy, and have -gnawed with their sharp teeth the holy laws, and the people are angry -with the church, and have fallen away from her breast into vile -heresies and sects. And what does the church militant do against this? -It increases its wealth and lets its enemies grow. The church should -live in poverty, like poor Lazarus, so that the people might see what -true holiness poverty is, as Christ preached it. The people on seeing -this would stop complaining and desiring the wealth of others. What -other task has the church but to hold back the people with strong -reins?" - -Those sticklers for the law cannot hide their thoughts when they see -its weakness, and they shamelessly disclose their secret selves. - -On the Holy Hill a certain merchant, who was a noted traveler and -who described his pilgrimages in holy places in clerical papers, was -preaching to the crowd humility, patience and kindness. - -He spoke warmly, even to tears. He entreated and he threatened, and the -crowd listened, silent and with bowed heads. - -I interrupted his speech and asked him "if open lawlessness should be -suffered also." - -"Suffer it, my friend," he cried; "undoubtedly suffer it. Christ -himself suffered for us and for our salvation." - -"How then," I answered, "about the martyrs and the fathers of the -church? For instance, take St. John Chrysostom, who was bold and -accused even kings." - -He became enraged, flared up at me and stamped his feet. "What are you -chattering there, you blunderer? Whom did they accuse? Heathens!" - -"Was Eudoxia a heathen, or Ivan the Terrible?" - -"That is not the point," he cried, waving his arms like a volunteer at -a Are. "Do not speak about kings, but about the people--the people, -that's the important thing. They are all sophisticated, and have no -fear. They are serpents which the church ought to crush; that is her -duty." - -Although he spoke simply, I did not understand at this time what all -this anxiety about the people was, and though his words caused me fear, -I still did not understand them, for I was spiritually blind and did -not see the people. - -After my discussion with this writer several men came up and spoke to -me, as if they did not expect anything good from me. - -"There is another fellow here; don't you want to meet him?" - -Toward vespers a meeting was arranged for me with this young man in -the wood near the lake. He was dark, as if blasted by lightning. His -hair was cut short, and his look was dry and sharp; his face was all -bone, from which two brown eyes burned brightly. The young man coughed -continually and trembled. He looked at me hostilely and, breathing with -difficulty, said: "They told me about you--that you scoff at patience -and kindness. Why? Explain." - -I do not remember what I said to him, but as I argued I only noticed -his tortured face and his dying voice when he cried to me: "We are not -for this life, but for the next. Heaven is our country. Do you hear it?" - -A lame soldier, who had lost his leg in the Tekinsky War, stood -opposite him and said gloomily: "My opinion, Orthodox, is this: -Wherever there is less fear there is more truth," and turning to the -young man he said: "If you are afraid of death that is your affair, but -do not frighten the others. We have been frightened enough without you. -Now you, red-head, speak." - -The young man vanished soon after, but the people remained--a crowd -of about half a hundred--to listen to me. I do not know with what I -attracted their attention, but I was pleased that they heard me, and -I spoke for a long time in the twilight, among the tall pines and the -serious people. - -I remember that all their faces fused into one long, sorrowful -face, thoughtful and strong-willed, dumb in words but bold in secret -thoughts, and in its hundred eyes I saw an unquenchable fire which was -related to my soul. - -Later this single face disappeared from my memory, and only long after -I understood that it was this centralization of the will of the people -into one thought which arouses the anxiety of the guardians of the law -and makes them fear. Even if this thought is not yet born or developed, -still the spirit is enriched by the doubt in the indestructibility -of hostile laws--whence the worry of the guardians of the law. They -see this firm-willed, questioning look; they see the people wander -upon the earth, quiet and silent, and they feel the unseeing rays of -their thoughts, and they understand that the secret fire of their -dumb councils can turn their laws into ashes, and that other laws are -possible. - -They have a fine ear for this, like thieves who hear the careful -movements of the awakened owner whose house they have come to rob in -the night, and they know that when the people shall open its eyes life -will change and its face turn toward heaven. - -The people have no God so long as they live divided and hostile to one -another. And of what good is a living God to a satisfied man? He seeks -only a justification for his full stomach amid the general starvation -around him. - -His lone life is pitiful and grotesque, surrounded on all sides by -horror. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -One time I noticed that a little, old, gray man, clean like a scraped -bone, watched me eagerly. His eyes were set deep in his head, as if -they had been frightened back. He was shriveled up, but strong like a -buck and quick on his feet. He used to sidle up toward people and was -always in the center of a crowd. He marched and scrutinized each face -as if looking for an acquaintance. He seemed to want something from me -but did not dare ask for it, and I pitied his timidity. - -I was going to Lubin, to the sitting Aphanasia, and he followed me -silently, leaning on his white staff. I asked him, "Have you been -wandering long, Uncle?" - -He grew happy, shook his head and tittered. - -"Nine years already, my boy, nine years." - -"You must be carrying a great sin," I said. - -"Where is there measure or weight for sin? Only God knows my sins." - -"Nevertheless, what have you done?" I laughed and he smiled. - -"Nothing," he answered. "I have lived on the whole as every one else. I -am a Siberian from beyond Tobolsk. I was a driver in my youth and later -had an inn with a saloon and also kept a store." - -"You've robbed some one." The old man started. - -"Why, what is the matter with you? God save me from it." - -"I was only joking," I said. "I saw a little man trotting along, and I -thought to myself, how could such a little man commit a big sin." The -old man stopped and shook his head. - -"All souls have the same size," he answered, "and they are all equally -acceptable to the devil. But tell me, what do you think about death? -You have spoken in the shelters about life, always about life. But -where is death?" - -"Here somewhere," I answered. - -He threatened me with his finger jokingly and said: "It is here. That's -it, it is always here." - -"Well, what if it is?" I asked. - -"It is here," and rising on his tiptoes he whispered into my ear, -"Death is all powerful. Even Christ could not escape it. 'Let this cup -pass from me,' He said, but the Heavenly Father did not let it pass. He -could not. There is a saying, 'Death appears and the sun disappears,' -you see." - -The little, old man began to talk like a stream rushing down a -mountain. "Death circles around us all and man walks along as if -he were crossing a precipice on a tightrope; one push with Death's -wing and man is no more. O Lord, by Thy force Thou hast strengthened -the world, but how has He strengthened it if death is placed above -everything? You can be bold in thought, steeped in learning, but you -will only live as long as death permits you." He smiled, but his eyes -were full of tears. - -What could I say to him? I had never thought of death and now I had no -time. - -He skipped along beside me, looking into my face with his faded eyes, -his beard trembling and his left hand hid in the bosom of his cloak. He -kept looking about him as if he expected death to jump out from some -bush and catch him by the hand and throw him into hell. - -I looked at him astonished. - -Around us all life surged. The earth was covered with the emerald foam -of the grass, unseen larks sang, and everything grew toward the sun in -many colored brilliant shouts of gladness. - -"How did you get such thoughts?" I asked my traveling companion. "Have -you been very sick?" - -"No," he said. "Up to my forty-seventh year I lived peacefully and -contentedly, and then my wife died and my daughter-in-law hanged -herself. Both were lost in the same year." - -"Maybe you yourself drove her to the noose." - -"No, it was from her own depravity that she killed herself. I did not -bother her, though even if I had lived with her, it would have been -forgiven in a widower. I am no priest, and she was no stranger to me. -Even when my wife was alive I lived like a widower. She was sick for -four years and did not once come down from the stove. When she died I -crossed myself. 'Thank God,' I said, 'I am free.' I wanted to marry -again when suddenly the thought occurred to me I live well, I am -contented, but yet I have to die. Why should it be so? I was overcome. -I gave everything I had to my son and began my wandering. I thought -that on the road I would not notice that I was going to the grave, for -everything about me was gay and shining and seemed to lead away from -the graveyard. However, it is all the same." - -"Your heart is heavy, Uncle?" I asked him. - -"Oh, my son, it is so terrible I cannot describe it. In the daytime I -try to be among people that I may hide behind them. Death is blind, -perhaps it might not see me or make a mistake and take some one else, -but at night, when each one remains unprotected, it is terrible to lie -awake without sleep. It seems to me then that a black hand sweeps over -me, feeling my breast and searching, 'Are you here? 'It plays with -my heart like a cat with a mouse and my heart becomes frightened and -beats. I get up and look about me. There are people lying down, but -who knows whether they will arise? It happens that death takes away in -crowds. In our village it took a whole family, a husband, a wife and -two daughters who died of coal smoke in the bath house." - -His mouth twitched in a vain effort to smile, but tears flowed from his -eyes. - -"If one would only die within a little hour, or in sleep, but first -there comes sickness to eat one away little by little." - -He frowned and his face contracted and looked like mildew. He walked -quickly, almost skipping, but the light went out of his eyes, and he -kept muttering in a low voice, neither to me nor to himself: "Oh, Lord, -let me be a mosquito, only to live on the earth! Do not kill me, Lord; -let me be a bug or even a little spider!" - -"How pitiable!" I thought. - -At the station, among people, he seemed to revive again, and he talked -about his mistress, Death, but with courage. He preached to the people. -"You will die," he said; "You will be destroyed on an unknown day and -in an unknown hour. Perhaps three versts from here the lightning will -strike you down." - -He made some sad and others angry, and they quarreled with him. One -young woman called out: "You have nothing the matter with you, and yet -death bothers you." - -She said it with such anger that I noticed her, and even the old man -stopped his eulogy on death. - -All the way to Lubin he comforted me, until he bored me to death. I -have seen many such people who run away from death and foolishly play -hide-and-seek with it. Even among the young there are some struck by -fear, and they are worse than the old. They are all Godless; their -souls are black within, like the pipe of a stove, and fear whistles -through them even in the fairest weather. Their thoughts are like old -pilgrims who patter on the earth, walking without knowing whither and -blindly trampling under foot the living things in their path. They have -the name of God on their lips, but they love no one and have no desire -for anything. They are occupied with only one thing: To pass on their -fears to others, so that people will take them up, the beggars, and -comfort them. - -They do not go to people to get honey, but that they may pour into -another soul the deadly poison of their putrid selves. They love -themselves and are without shame in their poverty, and resemble -crippled beggars who sit on the road on the way to church and disclose -their wounds and their sores and their deformities to people, that they -may awaken pity and receive a copper. - -They wander, sowing everywhere the gloomy seeds of unrest, and groan -aloud, with the desire to hear their groans reecho. But around them -surges a mighty wave--the wave of humble seekers for God and human -suffering surrounds them many colored. For instance, like that of the -young woman, the little Russian, who had talked up to the old man. She -walked silent, her lips compressed, her face sunburnt and angry, and -her eyes burning with a keen fire.. If spoken to she answered sharply, -as if she wanted to stick you with a knife. - -"Rather than getting angry," I said to her, "you had better tell me -your trouble. You might feel better afterward." - -"What do you want of me?" - -"I don't want anything; don't be afraid." - -"I am not afraid; but you are disgusting to me." "Why am I disgusting?" - -"Stop insisting or I will call the people." And so she struck out at -every one--old and young, and women, too. - -"I do not need you," I answered. "I need your pain, for I want to know -why people suffer." - -She looked at me sideways and answered, "Go to others. They are all in -need, the devil take them." "Why curse them?" - -"Because I want to." - -She seemed to me like one possessed. - -"For whom are you making this pilgrimage?" I asked. - -A smile spread over her face. She slackened her pace and she talked, -though not to me: - -"Last spring my husband went down the Dneiper to float lumber, and he -never came back. Perhaps he was drowned, or perhaps he found another -wife--who knows? My father-in-law and mother-in-law are very poor and -very bad. I have two children-a boy and a girl--and how was I to feed -them? I was ready to work--to break myself in two working--? but there -was no work. And what can a woman earn? My father-in-law scolded. 'You -and your children are a millstone around our necks, with your eating -and drinking.' My mother-in-law nagged, 'You are young yet; go to the -monastery; the monks desire women, and you can earn much money.' I -could not stand the hunger of the children, and so I went. Should I -have drowned them? I went." - -She talked as in her sleep, through her teeth and indistinctly, and her -eyes cried out with the pain of motherhood. - -"My son is already in his fourth year; his name is Ossip and my -daughter's name is Ganka. I beat them when they asked for bread; I beat -them. I have wandered a whole month and I have earned four rubles. The -monks are miserly. I would have earned more at honest labor. Oh, those -devils! What waters can wash me now?" - -I felt I ought to say something to her, so I said: "On account of your -children, God will forgive you." - -Here she cried out at me. "What is that to me? I'm not guilty before -God! If He doesn't forgive me, He doesn't have to, and if He forgives -me, I myself cannot forget it. It cannot be worse in hell. There the -children will not be with me." - -I excited her in vain, I said to myself. But already she could not -restrain herself. - -"There is no God for the poor. When we were in Zeleniklin on the banks -of the Amur, how we celebrated mass and prayed and wept for aid! But -did He aid us? We suffered there for three years, and those who did -not die from fever returned paupers. My father died there, my mother -had her leg broken by a wheel and both my brothers were lost in -Siberia." - -Her face became like stone. Although her features were heavy, she had -a serious beauty about her and her eyes were dark and her hair thick. -All night up to early morning I spoke with her sitting on the edge of -the wood behind the box of the railroad watchman. I saw that her heart -was all burned out, that she was no longer capable of weeping, and only -when she spoke of her childhood did she smile twice, involuntarily, and -her eyes became softer. - -I thought to myself as she spoke, "She's ready to kill. She will murder -some one yet or she will become the loosest of the loose. There is no -outlet for her." - -"I do not see God, and I do not love people," she said. "What kind of -people are they if they cannot aid one another. Such people! Before the -strong they are lambs and before the weak--wolves, but even the wolves -live in packs but people live each one for himself and an enemy to his -neighbor. I have seen and see much, and may they all go to ruin! To -bear children and not to be able to bring them up! Is that right? I -beat mine when they asked for bread; I beat them!" - -In the morning she arose to sell her body to the monks, and going away -she said to me spitefully, "What is the matter with you? We slept near -each other and you are stronger than I am, and yet you did not take -advantage of the bargain." - -I felt as if she had slapped my face. - -"You do wrong in insulting me," I answered. - -She lowered her eyes and then said, "I feel like insulting every one, -even those who are not guilty. You are young and you are worn out and -your temples are gray. I know that you, too, suffer, but as for me, it -is all the same, I pity no one. Good-by." - -And she went away. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -In the six years of my wandering I have seen many people made bad by -sorrow. An unquenchable hatred for every one burned within them, and -they were blind to everything but evil. They saw evil and bathed in it -as in a hot bath, and they drank gall like a drunkard wine, and laughed -and triumphed. - -"Ours is the right," they cried. "Evil and unhappiness are everywhere; -there is no place to escape." - -They fell into mad despair and, inflamed by it, led depraved lives and -soiled the earth in every way, as if to revenge themselves on her that -she gave them birth. They crawled without strength on the paths of the -earth, and remained slaves of their own weakness to the very day of -their death. They elevated sorrow to godhood and bowed before it, and -desired to see nothing but their own sores and hear nothing but the -outcries of their own despair. - -They were to be pitied, for they were as though mad; but how repulsive -to the soul they were, with their readiness to spit their gall into -every face and pollute the sun itself with their spittle if they could. - -There were others, who were crushed by sorrow and frightened by it, who -remained silent and tried to hide their small and slave-like lives, -but who did not succeed and only served as clay in the hands of the -strong, to plaster up the chinks in the walls of their own fortress. - -Many faces and expressions have become engraved on my mind. Bitter -tears were shed before me, and more than once I was deafened by the -terrible laughter of despair. - -I have tasted of all the poisons and drunk of a hundred rivers, and -many times I myself wept the bitter tears of impotence. Life seemed -to me a terrible delirium. It was a whirlwind of frightened words and -warm rain of tears; it was a ceaseless cry of despair, an agonized -convulsion of the whole earth suffering with an upward struggle, -unattainable to my mind and to my heart. - -My soul groaned, "No; that is not the right." - -The streams of sorrow flowed turbidly over the whole earth, and with -unspeakable horror I saw that there was no room for God in this chaos -which separated man from man. There was no room to manifest His -strength, no spot to place His foot. Eaten up by the vipers of sorrow -and fear, by malice and despair, by greed and shamelessness, all life -was falling into ruin and man was being destroyed by discord and -weakening isolation. - -I questioned: "Art Thou not truly, O Lord, but a dream of the soul of -man, a hope created by despair in an hour of dark impotence?" - -I saw that each one had his own God, and that his God was neither -more noble nor more beautiful than His worshipers. This revelation -crushed me. It was not God that man sought, but the forgetfulness of -sorrow. Misfortune torments man and drives him in all directions. He -escapes from himself; he wishes to avoid action; he is afraid to work -in harmony with life, and he seeks a quiet corner where he can hide -himself. - -I did not find in man the holy feeling of seeking God nor a striving -to rejoice in the Lord. I saw nothing but fear of life, a desire to -overcome sorrow. My conscience cried out: "No; that is not the right!" - -It happened more than once that I met a man who seemed deep in serious -thought and had a good, clean light in his eyes. If I met him once or -twice, he was the same; but at the third or fourth meeting I would -see that he was bad or drunk, and that he was no longer modest, but -shameless, vulgar and blasphemed God, and I could not understand why -the man was spoiled or what had broken him. All seemed blind to me, and -to fall easily by the way-side. - -I seldom heard an exalted word. Too frequently men spoke strange words -out of habit, not understanding the benefit nor the harm which was -locked up in their thoughts. They gathered together the speeches of the -pious monks or the prophecies of the hermits and the anchorites, and -divided them among each other, like children playing with broken pieces -of china. In fact, I did not see the man, but fragments of broken -lives, dirty human dust, which swept over the earth and was blown by -various winds onto the steps of churches. - -The people circled in vast numbers around the relics of the saints or -the miracle-making ikons, or bathed in the holy streams, and sought -only self-forgetfulness. The church processions were painful to me. -Even as a child the miraculous ikons had lost their significance for -me, and my life in the monastery had destroyed any vestige of respect -that was left. At times I felt that man was a gigantic worm, crawling -in the dust of the roads, and that men urged each other on by a force -which I could not see, calling to each other, "Forward! Hurry!" - -And above them, forcing their heads to the ground, floated the ikon -like a yellow bird, and it seemed to me that its weight was far too -heavy for them. - -Those possessed fell in heaps in the dust and mud under the feet of -the crowd, and they struggled like fish in the water, and their wild -cries were heard. But the crowds passed over these palpitating bodies, -stamped them and kicked them under foot, and cried out to the image of -the Virgin, "Rejoice, Thou queen of heaven!" - -Their faces were distorted and wild with straining, damp with sweat and -black with dirt; and this whole procession of man, singing a joyless -song with weary voices and marching with hollow steps, insulted the -earth and darkened the heavens. - -The beggars sat or reclined on the sides of the road, under the -trees and stretched themselves out like two gay ribbons--the sick, -the crippled, the wounded, the armless, the legless and the blind. -Their worn bodies crept over the earth, their mutilated arms and legs -trembled in the air and pushed themselves before people to excite their -pity. The beggars moaned and wailed, their wounds burned in the sun, -while they asked and begged a kopeck for themselves, in the name of -God. Many of them were eyeless, while in others the eyes burned like -coals and pain gnawed the flesh without respite, and they resembled -some horrible growth. - -I saw man persecuted. The force which drove him into the dust and the -dirt seemed hostile to me. Whither did it drive them? No; that is not -the right! - -Once I was in the exquisite city of Kiev, and I was struck by the -beauty and the grandeur of this ancient nest of the Russians. There I -had an interview with a monk who was supposed to be very wise. I said -to him: - -"I cannot understand the laws upon which the life of a man is based." - -"Who are you?" he asked me. - -"A peasant." - -"Can you read and write?" - -"A little." - -"Reading and writing is not for such as you," he said sternly. - -I saw in truth that he was a seer. - -"Are you a Stundist?" he asked me. - -"No. - -"A-ha! Then you are a Dukhobor?" - -"Why?" - -"I gather it from your words." - -His face was pink like flesh and his eyes were small. - -"If you seek God," he said to me, "then it is for but one reason--to -abase Him." He threatened me with his finger. "I know your kind. You -will not read the Credo a hundred times. Well, read it, and all your -foolishness will vanish like smoke. I would send all you heretics to -Abyssinia, to the Ethiopians in Africa. There you would perish alive -from the heat." - -"Were you ever in Abyssinia?" I asked him. - -"Yes," he answered. - -"And you didn't perish?" - -The monk became enraged. - -Another time, near the Dneiper, I met a man. He sat on the banks -opposite Lafra and he threw stones into the water. He was about fifty, -bald, bearded, his face covered with wrinkles, and his head large. At -that time I could tell by the eyes if a man was in earnest or not, and -I walked up to him and sat down at his side. It was toward evening. -The turbid Dneiper rolled its waters hurriedly. Behind it rose the -mountains, gray with temples, where the proud golden heads of the -churches shimmered in the sun, the crosses glistened and the windows -sparkled like precious gems. It appeared that the earth opened its lap -and showed her treasure to the sun in proud bounty. - -The man next to me said in a low voice, and sorrowfully: - -"They should cover Lafra with glass and drive all the monks away from -it and permit no one to enter, for there is no man worthy to walk amid -such beauty." - -It was like a fairy tale told by some wise, great man, which came true -there upon the banks of the river, where the waves of the Dneiper, -rushing down from afar, splashed up against the Lafra with joy at the -sight of it. But its surprised surging could not drown the quiet voice -of man. With what force it commenced, with what strength it was built -up! Like a faint dream, I remembered Prince Vladimir, and the Church -fathers, Anthony and Theodosia, and all the Russian heroes; and I was -filled with regret. - -The innumerable chimes on the other side of the bank rang out loudly -and joyfully, but the sad thoughts about life fell more distinctly on -my ears. We do not remember our birth. I came to seek the true faith, -and now I found myself wondering, "Where is man?" - -I could not see man. I saw only Cossacks, peasants, officials, priests, -merchants. I could find no one who was not tied up with some daily and -ordinary affair. Each one served some one, each one was under some -one's orders. Above the official was another official, and so they -rose, till they vanished from the eyes in an unattainable height. And -there God was hidden! - -Night came on. The water in the river became bluer and the crosses on -the churches lost their rays. The man still threw stones in the water, -but I could no longer see the ripples which they made. - -"Three years ago," he said, "we had a riot in Maikop on account of a -pestilence among the cattle. The dragoons were called out to fight us, -and peasants killed peasants. And all because of cattle. Many were -killed. I thought to myself then: 'What is this faith of the Russians, -if we are ready to kill each other on account of a few oxen, when God -said to us, "Thou shalt not kill."'" - -The Lafra disappeared in the darkness, and like a vision reentered the -mountain. The Cossack searched for stones in the sand around him, found -them and threw them into the river, and the water splashed loudly. - -"Such is man," the Cossack said, lowering his head. "The laws of God -are like spiritual milk, but they come down to us skimmed. It is -written, 'With a pure heart you will see God.' But how can your heart -be pure if you do not live according to your own will? Without one's -freedom there is no true faith, but only a fictitious one." - -He arose, shook himself and looked about him. He was a square-built -fellow. - -"We are not free enough before God; that is what I think." - -He took his cap and went away, and I remained alone, as if glued to -the earth. I wished to grasp the meaning of the Cossack's words, but I -could not. Still, I felt that they were right. - -The warm southern night caressed me, and I thought to myself: - -"Is it possible that only in suffering is the human soul beautiful? -Where is the pivot around which this human whirlwind moves? What is the -meaning of this vanity?" - -In winter I always went south, where it was warmer; but if the snow and -the cold caught me in the north, then I always entered a monastery. At -first the monks did not receive me in a friendly way, but when I showed -them how I worked they accepted me readily. They liked to see a man -work well and not take any money. - -My feet rested, while my arms and my head worked. I remembered all that -I saw during the summer, and I desired to draw out of it some clean -food for my soul. I weighed, I extracted, I wanted to understand the -reasons for things, and at times I became so confused that I could have -wept. - -I felt overfed with the groans and the sorrows of the earth, and the -boldness of my soul vanished and I became morose, silent, and an anger -arose in me against everything. - -From time to time dark despair took hold of me, and for weeks I lived -as if in a dream or blind. I desired nothing and saw nothing. - -I began to wonder if I should not stop this wandering and live as every -one else, and stop puzzling over my riddles, and subject myself humbly -to conditions of things which were not of my making. - -My days were as dark as the night, and I stood alone on the earth, -like the moon in heaven, except that I gave no light. I could stand -apart from myself and watch myself. I saw myself on the cross-ways, a -healthy young fellow, who was a stranger to every one, and whom nothing -pleased, and who believed in no one. Why did he live? Why was he apart -from the world? - -My soul became chilled. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -I also went to nunneries for a week or two, and in one of them, on the -Volga, I hurt my foot with an ax one day while chopping wood. Mother -Theoktista, a good little old woman, nursed me. - -The monastery was not large, but rich, and the sisters all had a -prosperous and dignified appearance. They irritated me, with their -sweetness and their honied smiles and their fat crops. - -Once, as I stood at vespers, I heard one of the women in the choir sing -divinely. She was a tall young girl, with a flushed face, black eyes, -stern looking, her lips red, and her voice was sure and full. She sang -as if she were questioning something, and angry tears mingled with her -voice. - -My foot became better and, as I was already able to work, I was -preparing to leave the place. While I was shoveling the snow from the -road one day I saw the girl coming. She walked quietly, but stiffly. -In her right hand, which was pressed against her breast, she carried -a rosary; her left hung by her side like a whip. Her lips were -compressed, she frowned and her face was pale. I bowed to her, but she -threw her head backward and looked at me as if I had done her harm at -some time. Her manner enraged me. Moreover, I could not bear the sight -of this young nun. - -"Well, my girl," I said, "it is not easy to live." She started and -stopped. - -"What did you say?" she asked. - -"It is hard to master one's self," I said. - -"Oh, the devil!" she said suddenly in a low voice, but with great -anger. And with that her black figure disappeared quickly, like a cloud -on a windy day. - -I cannot explain why I said that to her. At that time many such -thoughts jumped into my head and flew out like sparks into any one's -eyes. It seemed to me that all people were liars and hypocrites. - -Three days later I saw her again on another road. She angered me still -more. Why did she cover herself all in black? From what was she hiding? -When she passed me I said to her: - -"Do you wish to escape from here?" - -The girl trembled, threw back her head and remained standing, straight -as an arrow. I thought she would cry out, but she passed me, and then I -heard her answer distinctly: - -"I will tell you to-night." - -I was terrified, but I thought perhaps I had not heard correctly. -Still, though she had spoken low, her words came as clearly to me as -from a bell. At first they amused me; then I became confused, and later -I calmed myself, thinking that perhaps the bold hussy was joking with -me. - -When I had hurt my foot, they had brought me into the infirmary and I -occupied a little room under the staircase, and that room I occupied -all the time I stayed at the monastery. That night as I lay in my cot I -thought it was time I stopped my wandering life, and that I ought to go -to some city and there work in a bakery. I did not wish to think about -the girl. - -Suddenly some one knocked very low. I jumped up, opened the door, and -an old woman bowed and said: - -"Follow me, if you please." - -I understood where, but I asked nothing and went, threatening her -inwardly. - -"Is that the way it is, my dear? You will see how I will surprise your -soul." - -We crossed corridors and came to the place. The old woman opened a door -and pushed me forward, whispering, "I will come to take you back." - -A match flared up for a moment and in the darkness a familiar face lit -up, and I heard her voice say: - -"Lock the door." - -I locked it. - -I felt along the wall till I reached the stove, leaned up against it -and asked: - -"Will there be no light?" - -The girl gave a little laugh. "What kind of a light?" she asked. - -"Oh, you wanton!" I thought to myself, but remained silent. - -I could hardly make out the girl. She was in the dark, like a black -cloud in a stormy sky. - -"Why don't you speak?" she asked. Her voice was masterful. - -She must be rich, I thought, and I collected myself and said: - -"It is for you to speak." - -"Were you serious when you asked me about my running away from here?" - -I stopped to think how I could best insult her, but then, like a -coward, I answered quietly: - -"No. It was only to test your piety." - -Again she lit a match. Her face stood out clearly and her black eyes -gazed boldly. It was unpleasant for me. - -I got used to the darkness and saw that she stood, tall and black, in -the middle of the room, and her bearing was strangely straight. - -"You need not test my piety," she whispered hotly. "I did not call you -here for that, and if you do not understand, go away from here." - -Her breast heaved and there was something serious in her voice--nothing -loose. - -In the wall opposite me was a window, and it looked like a path which -had been cut out of the darkness into the night. The sight of it was -disagreeable to me. - -I felt uncomfortable, for I understood that I had made a mistake, and -it became more and more painful to me, so that my limbs trembled. - -She continued talking. - -"I have nowhere to run away to. My uncle drove me here by force, but I -can live here no longer. I shall hang myself." - -Then she became silent, as if lost in an abyss. - -I lost myself entirely, but she moved nearer to me and her breath came -with difficulty. - -"What do you wish?" I asked her. - -She came up to me and put her hand on my shoulder. It trembled, and I, -too, shook all over. My knees became weak and the darkness entered my -throat and stifled me. - -"Perhaps she is possessed," I thought to myself. - -But she began to sob as she spoke, and her breath came hot on my face. - -"I gave birth to a son, and they took him away from me and drove me -here, where I cannot live. They tell me that my child is dead. My uncle -and aunt say it, my guardians. Perhaps they have killed him. Perhaps -they abandoned him. What can one know, my dear friend? I have still two -years to be in their power before I reach my majority, but I cannot -remain here." - -The words came from her inmost heart, and I felt guilty before her. I -was sorry for her, and also a little afraid. She seemed half insane. I -did not know whether to believe her or not. - -But she continued her whispering, which was broken by sobs: - -"I want a child. As soon as I am with child, they will drive me away -from here. I need a child, since the first one died. I want to give -birth to another, and this time I will not let them take it away from -me, nor let them rob my soul. I beg pity and help from you. You, who -are good, aid me with your strength, help me get back that which was -taken from me. Believe me, in Christ's name, I am a mother, not a loose -woman. I do not want to sin, but I want a child. It is not pleasure I -seek, but motherhood." - -I was in a dream. I believed her. It was impossible not to believe when -a woman stood on her rights and called a stranger to her, and said -openly to him: - -"They have forbidden me to create man. Help me." - -I thought of my mother, whom I had never known. Perhaps it was in this -same way that she threw her strength into the power of my father. I -embraced her and said: - -"Pardon me. I have judged you wrongly. Forgive me in the name of the -Mother of God." - -While lost in self-forgetfulness in accomplishing the holy sacrament of -marriage, an impious doubt arose in my mind. - -"Perhaps she is deceiving me, and I am not the first man with whom she -is playing this game." - -Then she told me her life story. Her father was a locksmith and her -uncle was a machinist's apprentice. Her uncle drank and was cruel. In -summer he worked on steamboats, in 'winter on docks. She had nowhere -to live, for her father and mother were drowned while there was a fire -on a boat, and she became an orphan at thirteen. At seventeen she -became the mother of a child by a young nobleman. - -Her low voice flowed through my soul, her warm arms were around my -neck, and her head rested on my shoulder. I listened to her, but the -serpent of doubt gnawed at my heart. - -We have forgotten that it was a woman who gave birth to Christ and -followed him humbly to Golgotha. We have forgotten that it was woman -who was mother of all the saints and of all the heroes of the past. We -have forgotten the value of woman in our vile lust and have degraded -her for our pleasure and turned her into a household drudge. And that -is why she no longer gives birth to saviors of life, but only bare, -mutilated children, the fruit of our own weakness. - -She told me about the monastery. She was not the only one who was sent -in there by force. Suddenly she said to me, caressingly: - -"I have a good friend here, a pure girl, from a rich family. And, -oh, if you would only know how difficult it is for her to live here. -Perhaps you could make her with child also. Then they would drive her -forth from here and she would go to her godmother." - -"Good God!" I thought, "another one in misery!" - -And again my faith in the omniscience of God and the righteousness of -his laws was broken into. How could one place man in misery that laws -might triumph? - -Christa whispered low in my ear: "If only you could help her also!" - -Her words killed my doubts and I was ready to kiss her feet, for -I understood that only a pure woman, who appreciated the value of -motherhood, could speak like that. - -I confessed my doubts to her. She pushed me from her and wept low in -the darkness, and I dared not comfort her. - -"Do you think I had no qualms or shame in calling you?" she said to me -reproachfully. "You, who are so strong and handsome? Was it easy for me -to beg a caress from a man as if it were alms? Why did I go to you? I -saw a man who was stern, whose eyes were serious, who spoke little and -had little to do with young nuns. Your temples are gray. Moreover, I do -not know why, I believed you to be true and good. But when you spoke to -me that first time so unkindly, I wept. 'I was mistaken,' I thought to -myself. But later, thank God, I decided to call you." - -"Forgive me," I said to her. - -She kissed me. "God will forgive you." - -Here the old woman knocked on the door and whispered: - -"It is time to part. They will ring matins soon." When she led me along -the corridors she said: - -"Will you give me a ruble?" - -I could have struck her. - -I lived about five days with Christa. It was impossible to stay longer, -for the choir singer and the neophyte began to bother me too much. -Besides, I felt the need of being alone to reflect on this incident. - -How could they forbid women to bear children if such was their wish, -and if children have been and always will be the harbingers of a new -life, the bearers of new strength? - -There was another reason for my having to fly. Christa showed me her -friend. She was a slim young girl, with blonde curly hair and blue -eyes and resembled my Olga. Her little face was pure, and she looked -out upon the world with profound sadness. I was drawn toward her, and -Christa urged me on. - -But this was a different matter. Christa was no longer a girl; but -Julia was innocent, and her husband should also be innocent. - -I had no longer faith in my purity nor did I know what I really was. It -did not matter with Christa, but with the other my self-doubt had the -power to interfere. Why, I do not know, but it had that power. - -I said good-by to Christa. She wept a little and asked me to write to -her; said she would want to let me know when she was with child, and -I gave her an address. Soon after I wrote her. She answered with a -letter of good news, and I wrote her again. She was silent. - -About a year and a half later, in Zadona, I received a letter. It had -lain a long time in the post-office. She told me that she gave birth -to a child, a son; that she called him Matvei; that he was happy and -healthy; that she lived with her aunt, and that her uncle was dead. He -had drunk himself to death. - -"Now," she wrote, "I am my own mistress, and if you will come you will -be received with joy." - -I had a desire to see my son and my accidental wife, but by this time I -had found a true road for myself and I did not go to her. - -"I cannot now," I wrote. "I will come later." - -Afterward she married a merchant who sold books and engravings, and -went to live in Ribinsk. - -In Christa I saw for the first time a person who had no fear in her -soul and who was ready to fight for herself with all her strength. But -at that time I did not appreciate the great value of this trait. - -After the incident with Christa I went to work in the city; but life -there was distasteful to me. It was narrow and oppressive. I did not -like the artisans. They gave their souls nakedly and openly into the -power of the masters. Each one seemed to cry out by his action: - -"Here, devour my body! Drink my blood! I have no room on this earth for -myself!" - -It was unpleasant for me to be with them. They drank, they swore at -each other over a bagatelle, they sang their sad songs and burned at -their labor night and day, and their masters warmed their fat marrows -by them. - -The bakery was close and dirty; the men slept there like dogs, and -vodka and passion were their only pleasures. When I spoke to them about -the false arrangement of our life they listened, grew sorrowful and -agreed with me. But when I said that we had to seek God, they sighed -and my words flowed past them. - -At times, for some unknown reason, they made fun of me, and did it with -malice. - -I do not like cities. The incessant noise and traffic are unbearable to -me, and the city people, with their insane business, remained strangers. - -There were drinking places enough, and a superabundance of churches. -The houses rose like mountains, but to live in them was difficult. The -people were many, but each one lived for himself; each one was tied to -his work, and his life ran along on one thread, like a dog on a string. - -I heard weariness in every sound. Even the chimes rang out without -hope, and I felt in my whole soul that things were not created for -this. It was not right. - -At times I laughed at myself. What kind of a leader is this that has -arisen among you? But though I laughed, it was not with joy, for I saw -only error in everything, and since I could not understand, it was all -the more oppressive to me. I sank into the depths. - -At night I remembered my wandering and freer life, especially my nights -in the open fields. In the fields the earth is round and clear and -dear to your heart. You lie on her as in the palm of a hand, small and -simple like a child, clothed in a warm shadow and covered by the starry -sky, floating with it past the stars. You feel your tired body filled -with a strong perfume of plants and flowers, and it seems to you that -you lie in a cradle, and that an unseen hand rocks it and puts you to -sleep. The shadows float past and brush the tops of the plants, there -is a murmuring and whispering around you, and somewhere a marmot comes -out from its hole and whispers low. - -Far off on the horizon a dark form arises. Perhaps it is a horse in -the night. He stands for a second, then vanishes into the sea of warm -darkness. Then something else arises, now in another place, another -form. And so the whole night long, the guardians of earthly sleep, the -loving shadows of the summer nights, silently come and go in the fields. - -You feel that near you, in the whole sphere, all life has drawn back, -resting in a light slumber. And your conscience hurts. Yet you continue -to crush the plants with the weight of your body. A night-bird flies -noiselessly, a piece of earth is broken off and becomes alive, and -winged with its desires, seeks to fulfil them. Mice rustle through -the grass; sometimes a small, soft thing runs quickly across your -hand. You start, and you feel still deeper the abundance of life; that -the earth itself is alive underneath you, is near to you and closely -related to you. You hear her breathe, and you wonder what is the dream -she is having, and what strength is quietly being born in her breast. -How will she look upon the sun to-morrow? In what way will she rejoice -him, his beautiful and beloved one? - -You lie on her breast and your body grows and you drink the warm, -perfumed milk of your dear mother, and you see yourself completely and -forever the child of the earth. With gratitude you think of her, "Oh, -my beloved earth!" - -Unseen torrents of wholesome strength pour from the earth and streams -of spicy perfumes float in the air. The earth is like a censer to the -heavens, and you both the fire and the incense. The stars burn ardently -that they may show all their beauty before the rising of the sun, and -love and sleep fill and caress you. The bright light of hope passes -warmly through your soul. "Somewhere there exists a sublime God." - -"Seek and thou shalt find." That is well said, and we should not forget -these words, for in truth they are worthy of the human mind. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -As soon as spring came to the city I started out to tramp to Siberia, -for I had heard that country highly praised, but on my way I was -stopped by a man who strengthened my soul for the rest of my life and -showed me the true path to God. - -I met him on the road between Perm and Verk-hotur. - -I was lying on the edge of a wood and had built a fire to boil water. -It was noon, very hot, and the air was filled with a rosinlike woody -smell, oily and sappy. It was difficult to breathe. Even the birds felt -hot, and they hid themselves in the depth of the wood and sang there -happily while they arranged their lives. - -It was quiet on the edge of the wood. It seemed to me that everything -would soon melt underneath the sun and that the trees and the rocks and -my own stultified body would flow in a many-colored, thick stream upon -the earth. - -A man was approaching, coming from the Perm side, singing in a loud, -trembling voice. I raised my head and listened. I saw a little pilgrim, -in a white cassock, with a tea-kettle at his belt and a calf-skin -knapsack and a sauce-pan on his back. He walked briskly and nodded and -smiled to me from afar. - -He was the usual pilgrim. There are many such, and all of them are -harmful. Making pilgrimages is a paying business for them. They are -boorish and ignorant and are inveterate liars and drunkards, and are -not beyond stealing. I disliked them from the bottom of my heart. - -He came up to me, took off his cap, shook his head, and his hair danced -drolly, while he chattered like a magpie. - -"Peace to you, young man. What heat! It is twenty-two degrees hotter -than hell." - -"Are you long from there?" I asked. - -"About six hundred years." - -His voice was vibrant and gay, his head small, his forehead high, and -his face was covered with fine wrinkles, like a spider-web. His gray -beard looked clean and his brown eyes shone with gold, like a young -man's. - -"He is a merry dog," I thought to myself. - -But he continued chattering. "The Urals; there is where you find -beauty! The Lord is a great master in decorating the earth. He knows -how to arrange the woods and the trees and the mountains well." - -He took his tramping gear off, moving quickly and briskly. He saw that -my kettle was boiling over and he lifted it off the fire, and asked -like an old comrade: - -"Shall I pour out my tea, or will we drink yours?" Before I had time -to answer, he added: "Well, let's drink mine. I've got good tea. A -merchant gave it to me. It's expensive." - -I smiled. "You're spry," I said to him. - -"That's nothing," he answered. "I am nearly dead from the heat. But -wait till I'm rested. Then I will crease out your wrinkles for you." - -There was something about him which reminded me of Savelko, and I -wanted to joke with him. But in about five minutes I listened to his -words open-mouthed. They were strangely familiar; yet unheard-of, and -it seemed to me that my own heart, not he, was singing the joy of the -sunny days: - -"Look! Is this not a holiday? Is it not paradise? The mountains rise -toward the sun, rejoicing, and the woods climb to the summits of the -hills, and the little blades of grass under your feet strive winged up -toward the light of life. All sing psalms of joy, but you, man, you, -master of the earth, why do you sit here, morose?" - -"What strange bird is that?" I asked myself. But I said to him, trying -to draw him out: - -"But what if I am filled with unhappy thoughts?" He pointed to the -earth. "What is that?" - -"The earth." - -"No. Look higher." - -"You mean the grass?" - -"Higher still." - -"The shadow?" - -"It is the shadow of your body," he said, "and your thoughts are the -shadow of our soul. What are you afraid of?" - -"I am afraid of nothing." - -"You are lying. If you are not afraid, your thoughts would be bold. -Unhappiness gives birth to fear, and fear comes from lack of faith. -That is the way it is. Drink some tea." - -He poured tea into the cups and spoke without interruption: - -"It seems to me that I have seen you before. Were you ever in Valaan?" - -"I was." - -"When? No, it was not there. It seems to me that you were red-headed -when I saw you there. You have a striking face. It must have been in -Solofki that I saw you." - -"I was never in Solofki." - -"You were never there? That is too bad. It is an ancient monastery and -very beautiful. You ought to go there." - -"Then you never saw me before?" I said, and it hurt me to find it so. - -"What is the difference?" he cried out. "If I didn't see you before, I -see you now; and at that time the other one must have resembled you. -Isn't that just the same?" - -I laughed. "What do you mean, 'just the same'?" - -"Why not?" - -"Because I am I, and the other one is the other one." - -"Are you better than he?" - -"I don't know." - -"I don't know either." - -I looked at him and was overcome with impatience. I wanted him to speak -and speak without end. He poured out his tea and continued talking -hastily: - -"Yes, the other one was a one-eyed fellow, and it made him wretched. -All the lame and the crippled, whether in body or in mind, are the -essence of egoism. 'I am crippled,' they say, or 'I am lame; but you -people, don't you dare notice it.' He was that kind of a fellow. -He said to me,' All people are rascals. When they see that I have -one eye they say to me, "you are one-eyed." That is why they are -scoundrels.' 'My dear boy,' I said to him, 'you are a scoundrel and a -rascal yourself, and perhaps a fool also. You can take your choice. -Understand this: The important thing is not how people look at you but -how you look at people. That is why, my friend, we become one-eyed or -blind--because we look at other people, hunting for their dark spots -and put out our own light in their darkness. If you would light up the -other's darkness with your light, the world would be pleasant for you. -Man sees no good in any one else but himself, that is why the whole -world is a wretched wilderness for him.'" - -He laughed and looked at me, and I listened to him as one who is lost -in the wood at night and hears a far-off bell and is afraid that he -made a mistake; that perhaps it is only the cry of an owl. - -I understood that he had seen much; that he had overcome much in -himself. But it seemed to me that he did not think much of me, that he -was joking with me, and that his young eyes made fun of me. Since my -experience with Anthony I seldom trust a man's smile any longer. - -I asked him who he was. - -"I am called Jehudiel. I am a cheerful idiot for others and a good -friend to myself." - -"Are you from the clergy?" - -"I was a priest for some time, but was unfro'cked and was put in a -monastery at Suzdal for six years. You want to know why? Because I -preached sermons in church which the people, in the simplicity of -their souls, interpreted too literally. They were whipped for it and I -was convicted. And thus the affair ended. What did I preach? I don't -remember now. It was a long time ago, eighteen years, and one can -forget in that time. I have had various thoughts but none of them ever -came to anything." - -He laughed and in each wrinkle of his face the laughter played. He -looked about him as if the mountains and the woods were created for him. - -When it became cooler we went on farther together, and on the way he -asked me about myself. - -"Who are you?" - -Again, like that time before Anthony, I wished to place my former days -before my eyes and to look upon their checkered face. I spoke about -my childhood, about Larion and Savelko, and the old man laughed and -shouted. - -"Eh, what good people! The Lord's fools, what! Those were dear, true -flowers of the Russian soil, real God-loving ones." - -I did not understand this praise and his joy looked strange to me, but -he could hardly walk from laughter. He stopped, threw his head back and -shouted and called straight up to heaven, as if he had a friend there -with whom he wished to share his joy. I said to him kindly: - -"You resemble Savelko somewhat." - -"Resemble!" he cried. "It is always good," he said, "to resemble some -one. Eh, dear boy, if only the orthodox church had not ruined us ages -ago, how different it would be for the living ones on the Russian soil -now." - -His speech was dark to me. - -I told him about Titoff. He seemed to see my father-in-law before his -eyes and he expressed himself freely about him. - -"Such a rascal! I have seen many such. They are rapacious bugs, but -foolish and cowardly." - -When he heard my story about Anthony, he became thoughtful and then -said: - -"So, that was a doubting Thomas. Well, not every Thomas is a genius. -Some of them are stupidity itself." - -He drove a bumble-bee from him and lectured it. "Go away, go away from -here. Such impoliteness, to fly straight into the eyes. The devil take -you!" - -I listened to his words attentively, missing nothing. It seemed to me -that they were children of deep thought. I spoke to him as before a -confessor, except that I hesitated in mentioning God. I was afraid, and -I regretted something. God's image had become tarnished in my soul at -this time, and I wanted to polish it from the dust of the days, and I -saw that I cleaned up to the hollow places and my heart shuddered with -pain. - -The old man nodded his head and encouraged me. - -"Never mind; don't be afraid. If you keep silent you only lie to -yourself, not to me. Speak. Regret nothing. For if you destroy, you -will create something new." - -He responded to my words like an echo and I became more and more at -ease with him. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -Night overtook us. - -"Stop," he said, "let us find a place to rest." - -We found a shelter underneath a large rock which had been torn away -from its mother mountain, and the brush grew upon it, weaving itself -into a dark carpet underneath. We lay down in its warm shadow and built -a fire and boiled tea. I asked him: "Father, what were you telling me?" - -He smiled. "I will tell you everything I know. Only don't seek for -assertions in my words. I don't want to teach, but only to relate. -Only those people assert who are afraid of the paths of life, for whom -the growth of truth is dangerous. They see that truth burns ever more -brightly since men have lit its flames more and more in their hearts, -they see it and are afraid. They quickly take a little truth, as much -as is advantageous to them, and press it together into a small roll and -cry to the whole world: 'Here is truth; pure spiritual food, and for -all ages unchangeable,' and they sit, the cursed ones, upon the face of -truth and strangle it, clutching at its throat, and hinder the growth -of its strength in every possible way--they are enemies to us and to -all beings. I can say one thing: that is the way it is to-day; but -how it will be to-morrow I don't know. For you see, to-day there is no -true, lawful master in life. He has not come yet. I do not know how he -will arrange things when he comes; what plans he will establish and -what suppress, and what temples he will cause to be built. The apostle -Paul once said, 'All is for the best,' and many have accepted these -words. But they who have confirmed them are without strength, for they -have remained in one place. The stone is without strength. Why? Because -of its immobility, brother. It is not right to say to man, 'stand -here,' but always, 'go farther and farther.'" - -For the first time in my life I heard such speech and it sounded -strange to me. Here was a man who negated himself while I tried to -ratify myself. - -"Who is this master?" I asked. "The Lord?" - -The old man smiled. "No," he answered. "It is some one nearer us. I do -not want to name him. It is better that you yourself divine it. They -believe strongest in Christ who meet Him first and have Him in their -hearts; and it is by the strength of their faith that they raised Him -to the height of Godhood." - -He held me as before a closed door, and did not open it, or tell me -what was hidden behind it. Impatience and pain grew in me and the words -of the old man seemed dark. From time to time sparks flashed from -his words, but they only blinded me and did not light the darkness -in my soul. The night was moonlight, and black shadows surrounded -us. The wood overhead crawled silently up to the mountains, and over -the mountain tops, between the branches of the trees, the stars shone -like lighted birds. A nearby stream murmured. From time to time an owl -called in the wood, and over all the old man's words lived quietly in -the night. - -A strange old man! He caught a little insect which was crawling on his -cheek and he held it in the palm of his hand and asked it: - -"Where are you going, fool? Go, run in the grass, little creature." - -I liked it, for I, too, loved all insects, and I was interested in the -secret life which they led among the grass and the flowers. - -I asked several questions of the old man, for I wanted him to -speak plainly and more concisely, but I noticed that he evaded my -problems. In fact, he jumped over them. I liked his lively face. The -red reflection of the fire played lovingly over him, and everything -vibrated with the peaceful joy which I so desired. - -I envied him. He had lived twice as long as I, or even more, but his -soul was clear. - -"One man told me," I said to him, "that faith comes from imagination. -What do you say?" - -"I say," he answered, "that that man did not know what he was talking -about, for faith is a great creative feeling. It is born from the -overflow of the life-forces in man. Its strength is enormous and it -incites the youthful human spirit, driving it to action, for man is -bound and narrowed by his activities, and the outside world hinders -him in every way. Everything demands that he produce bread and iron, -but not the live treasure which is in the lap of his soul. He does not -yet understand how to take advantage of this treasure. He is afraid -of the uproar in his soul. He creates monstrosities and he fears the -reflection of his turbid spirit. He does not understand its being and -he bows to the forms of faith, to his own shadows, I might say." - -I did not understand him that minute, but for some reason I became -deeply enraged, and I thought to myself: "Now, I will not let you go -away from this place before you answer the root of the question." I -asked him sternly: - -"Why do you evade the question of God?" - -He looked at me, frowned and said: - -"But, my dear boy, I am speaking about Him all the time. Do you not -feel it?" - -He stood on his knees and the fire played on him. He held my hand and -spoke low and impressively: - -"Who is God, the worker of miracles? Is He our Father, or is He the -child of our soul?" - -I remember that I started and looked about me, for I felt -uncomfortable. Insanity spoke in the old man. - -Dark shadows lay about and I listened, while the murmur of the woods -crept around us, drowning the weak crackle of the burning coal and the -quiet sound of the river. I, too, wanted to kneel. - -Then he spoke loudly, as if in argument: - -"Man did not create God in weakness, no; but from an overflow of his -strength. And He does not live outside of us, but within us. We have -torn Him out of us in our terror at the problems of our soul, and we -have placed Him above us with a desire to bind our pride, which is ever -restless at this binding. I said that they have turned strength into -weakness; they have hindered its growth by force. They have conceived -an ideal of perfection too hurriedly, and it has resulted in harm and -pain to us. Man is divided into two classes: The first are the eternal -creators of God; the second are forever slaves of an overpowering -desire to master the former and to reign over the whole earth. They -have captured power, and it is they who maintain that God exists -outside of man; that He is an enemy of the people, a judge and a master -of the earth. They have disfigured the face of the soul of Christ and -have falsified His commandments, for the real Christ is against them, -and is against the mastering of man by his neighbor." - -He spoke, and I felt that a painful tooth gnawed in my soul. I wanted -to tear it out, but it hurt, and I wanted to shout, "That is not the -right!" - -There was a holy light in his face and he seemed intoxicated and -transported with joy. I saw that his words were insane, but I loved -the old man through the pain and the yearning in my heart, and I -listened to his speech passionately. - -"But the creators of God are alive and immortal, and within them, -secretly and earnestly, they will create God anew. And it is about Him -you are dreaming; about a god of beauty and wisdom, of righteousness -and love." - -His words agitated me and lifted me to my feet and gave me a weapon in -my hands. Around me the light shadows shimmered and brushed my face -with their wings. I was terrified, the earth swam about me, and I -thought to myself: - -"Perhaps it is true that the devil tempts man with beautiful words. -Perhaps this sly old man is plaiting a noose for me, to catch me in the -trap of the greatest sin of all." - -"Listen," I said; "who are the creators of God? Who is the master? Whom -do you await?" - -He laughed caressingly, like a woman, and answered: - -"The creators of God are the people. They are the great -martyrs--greater than the ones the church has praised. They are God, -the creators of miracles--the immortal people! I believe in their soul; -I have faith in their strength. They are the one and certain basis of -life; they are the father of all gods that have been and that will be." - -"A mad old man," I thought to myself. - -Up to now it seemed to me that, though slowly, still I was going -toward the heights. More than once his words were like a fiery finger -that pointed to my soul, and I felt that the burn and the sting were -wholesome; but now my heart became suddenly heavy, and I remained -standing in the middle of the road, bitterly disappointed. Many fires -burned in my breast. I suffered, yet I was incomprehensibly happy. I -was bewildered and afraid. - -"Is it possible," I asked, "that you are speaking of the peasants?" - -He answered loudly and emphatically: "Yes; of the whole working people -of the earth, of all its strength--the one and eternal source of the -creation of God. Soon the will of the people will awake, and that great -force, divided, will unite. Many are already seeking the means by which -all the powers of the earth shall be harmonized into one, and from -which shall be created the holy and beautiful all-embracing God of the -earth." - -He spoke loudly, as if not only I, but the mountains and the woods and -all that lived, watching in the night, should hear him. He spoke and -quivered, like a bird which is ready to fly, and it seemed to me that -all this was a dream and that this dream lowered me. - -I recalled to my mind the image of my God and placed before His face -the dark rows of enslaved, confused people. Did they create God? I -remembered their petty meanness, their cowardly avarice, their bodies -stooped with degradation and toil, their eyes which were dulled with -sorrow, their spiritual stammering and their dumb thoughts, and all -their superstitions, and could they, these insects, create a new God? - -Wrath and bitter laughter disturbed my heart. I felt that the old man -had stolen something from me, and I said to him: "Ah, father, you have -done mischief in my soul, like a goat in a garden, and this is all the -result of your words. Do you dare to talk with every one like that? It -is a great sin in my eyes. You should have pity for people. They seek -comfort, and you go about sowing doubt." - -He smiled. "I think you are on the same road as I am." - -His smile was offensive to me. "It's a lie!" I answered. "I will never -place man side by side with God." - -"You don't have to," he said. "Do not place him there, for in that way -you will put a master over yourself. I am not speaking to you about a -man, but of the whole strength of the spirit of the earth--about the -people." - -I became enraged. This "God, creator," in rags, filthy, always drunk, -who was beaten and flogged, became disgusting to me. - -"Keep still," I said. "You are a crazy old blasphemer. Who are the -people? They are dirty in body and in thoughts; beggars in mind and in -food, and ready to sell their souls for a kopeck." - -Here something strange happened. He jumped to his feet and shouted, -"Shut up!" He waved his arms, stamped his feet, and he looked as though -he were ready to beat me. When he had been in a prophetic mood I stood -far from him, and he seemed funny, but now the human came nearer to me. - -"Shut up!" he cried. "You granary mouse! You have rotten noble's blood -flowing through you, that is plain. You, who were abandoned to the -people! Do you know about whom you are speaking? You are all alike. You -proud, lazy land robbers! You don't know against whom you are barking, -you scrofulous dogs! You have plundered and robbed the people; you have -sat on their backs, and you swear at them that they don't run fast -enough!" - -He jumped around me and his shadow fell on me, whipping my face coldly, -and I moved away from him, surprised and fearful lest he strike me. -I was twice as big as he was, and ten times as strong, but somehow -I had no desire to stop the man. It was evident that he forgot that -night was around us, and that we were in the wilderness, and that if -I misunderstood him he would lie there alone in that place, without -help. I remembered how that frightened, green Archbishop swore at me -that time, and crazy Misha and other people of the old faith; but here -was a man who was insulting me, and his wrath burned with a different -fire. The others were stronger than I, but in their words I heard fear. -This man was weak, but fearless. And he shouted at me, like a child or -like a mother. His wrath was strangely loving, like the first storm -in spring. I was confused and did not understand the boldness of the -old man, and though his anger was amusing, still it hurt me that I so -enraged him. He scolded insultingly, and I did not like to be called -"abandoned," but his wrath pleased me, for I understood that here was a -man angered, believing truly in his own right, and such wrath does the -soul good. There is much love in it, and sweet food for the heart. - -I lay at his feet and he shouted at me from above. "What do you know -about the people, you blind fool? Do you know their history? Read their -life, and you will find them higher than all the saints, this father -of ours, this greatest martyr of all--the People. Then, to your great -fortune, you will understand who it is that is before you, and the -strength that grows around you, you homeless vagabond, in a strange -land! Do you know what Russia is? Do you know what Greece is, which -is called Hellas? Do you know Rome? Do you know by whose will and by -whose spirit all governments were built? Do you know on whose bones -the temples were erected? Do you know with whose tongues the wise men -speak? All that is on the earth and all that is in your mind was made -by the People, and the nobility have only polished up that which they -made." - -I remained silent. I liked to see a man who was not afraid to defend -his right. He sat down, damp and red in the face, and breathed heavily. -I saw that there were tears in his eyes, and this surprised me, for -whenever my former teachers were offended with me they did not shed -tears. He cried out: - -"Listen, and I will tell you about the Russian people." - -"You had better rest," I said. - -"Keep still," he said to me, threatening me with his hand. "Keep still, -or I will kill you." - -I could hardly contain myself, and laughed outright. - -"Dear grandfather," I said, "you are an unspeakably marvelous old man. -Pardon me, in Christ's name, if I have offended you." - -"You fool! How could you offend me? But you have spoken badly about the -great people, you unhappy soul. It is advantageous for the nobles to -slander the people. They have to stifle their conscience, for they are -strangers on this earth. But you--who are you?" - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -It was good to look at him when he talked thus. He became dignified -and even stern. His voice grew calmer and deeper, and he spoke evenly -and in cadences, as if he were reading from the Apostles. His face was -turned upward, his eyes were round and big, and he was on his knees, -but he seemed taller to me than when he stood. At first I listened to -his words with an incredulous smile, but soon I remembered the Russian -history which Anthony gave me, and it again opened before my eyes. He -recited the marvelous fairy tale to me, and I compared this fairy tale -with the book. The words tallied, but the sense was different. He came -to the decline of the Kiev government. - -"Have you heard it?" - -"Yes, thank you." - -"Well, then, know that those heroes never existed; that it was the -people themselves who incarnated their exploits into characters by -which to remember their great labor in the building up of the Russian -soil." Then he continued talking about the Sudzalsky land. - -I remember that somewhere behind the mountains the sun rose and -the night hid itself in the woods and woke the birds. Rosy masses -of clouds hung over us and we lay on the dewy grass of the rock, -one resuscitating the past, the other astonished, counting up the -immeasurable labors of men and hardly believing the tale about the -conquest of the hostile woody soil. - -The old man seemed to see everything. He heard the hammering of heavy -axes in strong hands; he saw the people drain the swamps and build up -cities and monasteries; he saw them go ever farther along the cold -rivers, into the depths of the thick forests; he saw them conquer -the savage earth; he saw them render it beautiful. The princes, the -lords of the people, cut and minced this earth into little pieces -and fought against each other with the fists of the people whom they -afterward robbed. Then from the steppes came the Tartars, but there was -no defender of the people's liberty to arise from among the princes. -There was no honor, no strength, no mind. They sold the people and made -merchandise of them with the Khans as if they were cattle, and they -bought princely power with the blood of the peasants, to have power -over these same peasants. Later, when they had taught the Tartars how -to govern, they sent each other to the Khans for slaughter. - -The night around us was friendly and wise like an elder sister. The -voice of the old man gave out from weariness. The sun saw him, but he -went still farther into the past, and showed me the truth with flaming -words. - -"Do you see," he asked me, "what the people have done and what they -have suffered up to the very day, when you abused them with your stupid -words? I have told you mostly of that which they did through another's -will, but after I am rested I will tell you on what their souls have -lived and how they have sought God." - -He coiled up on the rock and fell asleep like a little child. I could -not sleep, but sat there as if surrounded by burning coals. - -It was already morning. The sun was high and the birds were singing, -full-throated. The wood bathed in the dew and rustled, meeting the day -friendly and green. People walked along the road; ordinary, every-day -people. They walked with bowed heads and I could not see anything new -in them. They had not grown in any way in my eyes. My instructor slept -and snored and I sat next to him lost in thought. Men passed by one -after the other, looked askance at us and did not even bow their heads -to my salute. - -"Is it possible," I asked myself, "that these are the offspring of -those righteous ones, those builders of the earth about whom I have -just heard?" - -The dream and the reality became confused in my head, yet I understood -that this meeting meant very much for me. The old man's words about -God, the Son of the spirit of the people, disturbed me, and I could not -reconcile myself to them, not knowing any other spirit except that one -which was living in me. I racked my mind for all the peasants and the -people I had known and tried to remember their words. They had many -sayings, but their thoughts were poor. On the other hand I saw the dark -exile of life, the bitter toil for bread, the winters of famine, the -everlasting sadness of empty days, all the degradation which man has -suffered and every outrage against his soul. Where could God be in this -life? Where was there room for Him? - -The old man slept. I wanted to wake him and shout "Speak!" - -Soon he awoke, blinked his eyes and smiled. - -"Ah," he said, "the sun is already near noon. It is time for me to go." - -"Where will you go in such heat?" I asked. "We have bread, tea and -sugar. Besides, I can't let you go. You must give me what you have -promised." - -Then he became thoughtful and said: - -"Matvei, you should drop your wandering. It is too late, or perhaps too -early for you. You have to learn. It is time for you to learn." - -"Is it not too late?" - -"Look at me," he answered. "I am fifty-three years old, and up to this -day I learn from some little children." - -"Whose children?" I asked. - -"They are some children I know. You should live with them a year or -two. You ought to go to the factory. It is not very far from here, -about a hundred versts, where I have good friends." - -"First tell me what you wanted to say, and then I shall think where I -am to go." - -We walked together on the path alongside the road and again I heard his -clear voice and his strange words. - -"Christ was the first true people's God, born from the soul of the -people like the phoenix from the flames." - -He trembled all over and waved his hands before his face as if he -wanted to catch new words from the air, and continued shouting: - -"For a long time the people carried various men on their shoulders. -Without question they gave them of their labor and their freedom, -placed them above themselves and waited humbly for them to see from -their height the paths of righteousness on earth. But these chosen -ones of the people, when they reached the height, became drunk and -degraded by their power and remained above, forgetting who placed -them there, and became a heavy burden on the earth instead of a joy. -When the people saw that the children who were fed by their blood -were their enemies, they lost their faith in them and abandoned these -powerful ones, who had to fall and the power and the strength of -their government decayed. The people understood that the law was not -that one from a family should be raised and after having fed him on -their liberty that they should live by his mind, but that the true law -was that all should be raised to one height and that each one should -look upon the paths of life with his own eyes; and the day when the -consciousness of the inevitable equality of man arose in the people, -that day was the birth of Christ. - -"Many people have tried to realize their dreams of justice by creating -one live being, a common lord over all, and more than once various -people, urged on by this common thought, have tried to bind it with -strong words that it might live forever. And when all these thoughts -were mustered in one, a living God arose for them, the beloved child of -the people, Jesus Christ." - -That which he said about Christ, the Son of God, was near to me; but -about the people giving birth to Christ I could not understand. I told -him that, and he answered: - -"If you wish to know, you will understand. If you wish to believe, you -will know." - -We tramped together for three days, going slowly; he, teaching me all -the time and explaining the past to me. He recited the whole history -of the people from the beginning up to the present day; he told me of -the troubled times when the churches persecuted the jesters and of the -merry men who awakened the people's memory with their jokes and sowed -truth by them. - -"Do you understand," he asked me, "who this Savelko of yours was?" - -"Yes, I understand." - -"Remember that small things come from large and that the large is made -up from small pieces." - -We came to Stephan Verkhatour. The old man said to me: - -"We must part here. My road lies with you no longer." - -I did not want to go away from him, but I understood that it was -necessary. My thoughts troubled me. I was agitated to the very depths -and my soul was furrowed as with a plow. - -"Why have you become thoughtful?" he asked me. "Go to the factory. Work -there and mix with my friends. It will be no loss to you, I assure you. -The people are intelligent. I learned from them, and you see I am no -fool." - -He wrote a little note and gave it to me. - -"Go there. I wish you no harm, believe me. The people are new-born and -alive. Don't you believe me?" - -"Our small eyes can see much," I answered, "but is that when they see -the truth?" - -"Look with all your might," he cried, "with all your heart, with all -your soul! Did I tell you to believe? I told you to learn and know." - -We kissed and he went away. He walked lightly, like a youth of twenty, -and as if some happiness awaited him. I became sad when I looked back -at this bird flying away from me, Heaven knows where, to sing his -song in new parts. My head was heavy; my thoughts raced like Little -Russians at market in the early morning, sleepy, awkward, slow, and in -no way able to make order. Everything became strangely confused. To my -thoughts there was another's conclusion and to this other's conclusion -my own beginning. It hurt me, yet it was funny, and I seemed all -changed within. - -When I went away from Verkhatour, I asked where the road led to, and -they answered to the Isetsky factory. That was where the old man had -wanted me to go, but I took a side road; I did not wish to go there. I -wanted to go to the villages and look around me. - -The people were gloomy and haughty and seemed to wish to speak with -no one. They looked about cautiously, as if they were afraid some one -would rob them. - -"Here are the God-creators," I said to myself, looking at some -pock-marked peasants. "I will ask them where this road leads to." - -"To the Isetsky factory." - -"What is it? Do all roads lead to that factory?" I asked myself, and -wandered through villages and woods, crawling like a beetle through -the grass, and seeing the factory from a distance. It smoked, but it -did not lure me. I felt as if I had lost half of myself and I did not -understand what I wanted. I was unhappy. A gray, idle pain filled -my soul and evil laughter and a great desire to insult everybody and -myself arose in me. Suddenly, without noticing it myself, I made up my -mind: "I'll enter the factory, damn it!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - - -I came into a filthy hell. In a hollow between mountains which were -covered with stumps of felled trees, buildings arose on the earth, from -the roofs of which tongues of flame shot forth. Tall chimney-stacks -rose toward the sky, from which smoke and steam poured out, staining -the earth with soot. There was a deafening noise of hammers, and a roar -and a wild squeaking and creaking of saws shot through the smoke-laden -air. Everywhere there was iron, wood, coal, smoke, steam, stench; and -in this pit, filled with every kind of miscellaneous thing, men worked -black as coal. - -"Thank you, old man," I said to myself, "you have sent me to a nice -place." - -It was the first time I had seen a factory near-to. I was deafened -by the extraordinary noise, and I breathed with difficulty. I went -through the streets seeking for the locksmith, Peter Jagikh. Everyone -I asked snarled back at me as if they had all quarreled with each -other in the morning and had not yet succeeded in calming themselves. -"God-creators!" I cried out to myself. - -I came upon a man who looked like a bear; dirty from head to foot. His -oily clothes shone with dirt in the sun, and I asked him if he knew -the locksmith, Peter Jagikh. - -"Who?" - -"Peter Jagikh." - -"Why?" - -"I want to see him." - -"Well, I am he." - -"How do you do?" - -"Well, how do you do? What do you want?" - -"I have a note to you." - -The man was taller than I, with a large beard, broad shoulders, and -heavily set. His face was sooty and his small, gray eyes could hardly -be seen from under his thick eyebrows. His cap was set far back on his -head and his hair was cut short. He looked like a peasant, yet not -entirely so. Evidently he read with great difficulty. His face was all -wrinkled and his mustache trembled. Suddenly his face cleared, his -white teeth shone, he opened his good, childish eyes and the skin in -his checks smoothed out. - -"Ah," he cried, "he is alive, God's bird! That's good. Go, my dear, to -the end of this street and turn to the left toward the wood. At the -foot of the mountain there is a house with green shutters. Ask for the -teacher. He is called Mikhail. He is my nephew. Show him the note. I -will come soon." - -He spoke like a soldier, giving his signal on a bugle. He made the -speech, waved his hand and went away. - -"He is kind and funny," I thought to myself. At the house an angular -boy in a cotton shirt and an apron, met me. His sleeves were rolled up; -his hands were white and thin. He read through the note and asked me: - -"Is Father Juna well?" - -"Yes, thank God." - -"Did he tell you when he will come to see us?" - -"He didn't say. Is he called Juna?" - -The young man looked at me suspiciously and began to read the note -again. - -"How then?" he asked me. - -"He said his name was Jehudiel." - -The young fellow smiled. "That is a nickname which I gave him." - -"Oh, the devil," I thought. - -His hair was straight and long like a deacons', his face pale. His eyes -were a watery blue and he looked as if he did not spring from this -dirty spot. - -He walked up and down the room and measured me with his eyes as if I -were a piece of cloth; and I did not like it. - -"Have you known Juna a long time?" he asked me. - -"Four days." - -"Four days," he repeated. "That's good." - -"Why good?" I asked. - -"Just so," he answered, shrugging his shoulders. "Why do you wear an -apron?" - -"I am binding books," he said. "Soon my uncle will return and we will -have supper. Perhaps you would like to wash yourself after your trip?" - -I felt like teasing him. He was much too serious for his age. - -"Do people wash here?" I asked. - -He frowned. "How then?" - -"I have not seen any washed ones yet," I answered. - -He half closed his eyes, looked at me and answered calmly: - -"People do not idle here. They work; and there is no time to wash -often." - -I saw that I had struck the wrong man. I wanted to answer, but he -turned on his heel and went away. I felt foolish, sat down and looked -about me. - -The room was large and clean. In the corner there was a table set for -supper, and on the walls there were shelves with books. The books were -mostly secular, but there was also a Bible, the gospels and an old -Slavic psalm-book. - -I went out into the court and washed myself. The uncle entered, his cap -still farther back on his head, and he swung his arms and held his head -forward like a bull. - -"Well, I will wash myself," he said. "Pump some water for me." - -His voice was like that of a trumpet and both his hands together were -as large as a big soup tureen. When he had washed some of the soot off -his face, I saw that he had high cheek-bones and a skin like copper. - -We sat down to supper. They ate, talked about their own affairs and -did not ask me who I was or why I came. Still they offered me things -hospitably and looked at me in a friendly way. There was something very -solid about them, as if the earth was firm under their feet. I felt -like shaking it for them--why were they better than I? - -"Are you Old Believers?" I asked. - -"We?" the uncle replied. "No." - -"Then you are orthodox?" - -The nephew frowned and the uncle shrugged his shoulders and laughed. - -"Perhaps we have to show him our passports, Mikhail." - -I understood that I had acted foolishly, but I did not want to stop. - -"I did not want to see your passports," I said. "I wanted to see your -thoughts." - -"Thoughts? Right away, Your Excellency. Thoughts, forward!" And he -laughed like a stallion. - -Mikhail, who was making the tea, said calmly: - -"I know why you came. You are not the first one whom Juna has sent us. -He knows people and never sends empty men." - -The uncle felt my forehead with his palm and laughed: - -"Please look more gay. Don't show your trumps right away, or you may -lose." - -They evidently considered themselves men rich in soul and that I was a -beggar compared to them. They did not hurry to quench my hungry heart -with their wisdom. I became angry and wanted to quarrel, but I could -find no reason; and that angered me still more. I asked at random: - -"What do you mean by an empty man?" - -The uncle answered: "A man who can fill up with anything you wish." - -Suddenly Mikhail went up quietly to me and said, in a soft voice: - -"You believe in God?" - -"Yes." - -But I became confused at my answer. It was not true. Did I really -believe? - -Mikhail asked again: - -"And you respect people?" - -"No," I answered. - -"Don't you see," he said, "that they are created in the image of God?" - -The uncle, the devil take him, smiled like a copper basin in the sun. - -"With such people," I thought to myself, "one must argue sincerely -and if I should fall asunder in little pieces, they will gather me up -again." - -"When I look upon people," I said, "I doubt the power of God." - -Again it was not right. I doubted God before I ever saw the people. - -Mikhail looked at me thoughtfully, with wise eyes, and the uncle walked -heavily up and down the room, stroking his beard, and grunting low to -himself. - -It made me uneasy that I had to lower myself to lie before them. I saw -my soul with remarkable clearness and my thoughts raced through me -stupidly and alarmed like a frightened bee-hive. I began to drive them -out of me, irritated. I wished to empty myself. - -I spoke for a long time without connecting my words. I spoke at random -on purpose. If they were such wise people, let them gather the sense -themselves. I became tired and asked passionately: "How can you heal my -sick soul?" - -Mikhail answered low, without looking at me: - -"I do not consider you sick." - -The uncle laughed again, and it pealed out as if a demon had come in -through the roof. - -"To be sick," Mikhail continued, "is when a man is not conscious of -himself, but knows only his pain and lives in it. But you, it is plain, -have not lost yourself. You are seeking happiness in life, and only a -healthy man does that." - -"But why is there such pain in my soul then?" "Because you like it," he -answered. - -I gnashed my teeth. His calm was unbearable to me. - -"Do you know for sure," I asked, "that I like it?" - -He looked me straight in the eyes and drove his nails slowly into my -breast. - -"As an honest man, you ought to recognize," he said, "that your pain is -necessary to your soul. It places you above others and you esteem it as -something which separates you from others. Is it not so?" - -His Lenten face was dry and drawn, his eyes darkened, he stroked his -cheek with his hand, while he cleaned me hard, as one cleans copper -with sand. - -"You are evidently afraid to mingle with people for you unconsciously -think to yourself, 'Though they are ulcers, they are my own, and no one -has ulcers but I.'" - -I wanted to contradict him, but found no words. He was younger than I, -and weaker, and I did not believe that of the two I was the more stupid. - -The uncle laughed like a priest in a steam-bath. - -"But this does not separate you from people. You are mistaken," Mikhail -went on. "Every one thinks the same. That is why life is weak and -monstrous. Each one tries to go away from life and dig his own hole in -the ground and look out upon the earth from it alone. From a hole, life -seems low and futile, and it suits the isolated man to see life so. I -say it about those people who for some reason or other cannot sit on -the backs of their neighbors to drive them where they could eat tastier -food." - -His speech angered and offended me. - -"This vile life," he said, "unworthy of human reason, began on that -day when the first individual tore himself away from the miraculous -strength of the people, from the masses, from his mother, and -frightened by his isolation and his weakness, pitied himself and grew -to be a futile and evil master of petty desires, a mass which called -himself 'I.' It is this same 415 which is the worst enemy of man. In -its business of defending itself and asserting itself on this earth, -it has uselessly killed the strength of the soul, and its capacity of -creating spiritual welfare." - -It seemed to me that his speech was familiar to me and that the words -were those which I had waited for. - -"Poor in soul, the eye is powerless to create. It is deaf, blind and -dumb in life, and its goal is only self-defense, peace and comfort. -It creates the new and purely human only under compulsion, after -innumerable urgings from without and with great difficulty. It not only -does not value its brother 'I,' but hates him and persecutes him. It -is hostile because, remembering that it was born from the whole from -which it was broken off, the 'I' tries to unite the broken pieces and -to create anew a great unit." - -I listened, surprised. All this was clear to me; not only clear, but -even near and true. It seemed to me that I had long ago thought the -same, only without words. And now I had found words, and the thoughts -arranged themselves before me like steps on a ladder, which led ever -upward. - -I remembered Juna's speeches and they lived before my eyes, clear and -beautiful. But at the same time I was restless and uncomfortable, as -if I were standing on a block of ice in a river in the spring. - -The uncle had quietly left us alone. There was no fire in the room, the -night was moonlit, and in my soul, too, there was a moonlight mist. - -At midnight Mikhail stopped speaking and we went to sleep in a shed in -the courtyard, where we lay in the hay. He soon fell asleep, but I went -out to the gate, and sat down on some logs and gazed about me. - -The moon and two large stars strode carefully across the heavens. Over -the mountains against the blue sky the jagged wall of the wood could be -plainly seen. On the mountains was the hewn forest, and on the earth -black pits. Below, the factory greedily showed its red teeth. It hummed -and smoked and tongues of fire rose over the roofs and shot upward, but -could not tear themselves away and were drowned in the smoke. The air -smelled burnt. It was difficult to breathe. - -I thought of the bitter loneliness of man. Mikhail had spoken well. He -believed his own words and I saw truth in them. But why did they leave -me cold? My soul did not harmonize with the soul of this man. It stood -apart, as in a wilderness. - -Soon I noticed that I was thinking the thoughts of Juna and Mikhail and -that their thoughts lived powerfully within me, though still on the -surface, for at bottom I was still hostile and suspicious of them. - -"Where am I?" I asked. "And what am I?" - -I spun around in my perplexity like a top, and always faster, so that -the cloud storm roared in my ears. - -The whistle blew in the factory. At first it was thin and plaintive, -then it became louder and masterful. - -The morning looked out sleepily from the mountain and the night hurried -below, taking the thin veil off the trees quietly, folding it up and -hiding it in the hollows and the pits. The robbed earth stood out clear -to the eye. Everything was eaten out and plundered, as if some bold -giant had played in this hollow, tearing out strips of wood and giving -severe wounds to the earth. - -The factory was sunk in this basin, dirty, oily, covered with smoke and -puffing. Dark people dragged themselves to it from all sides and it -swallowed them up, one by one. "Creators of God," I thought to myself. -"What have they created?" - -The uncle came out into the court disheveled, stretching himself, -yawning, cracking his joints, and smiling at me. - -"Ah," he cried, "you are up!" Then he asked me kindly, "Or perhaps you -did not go to bed at all? Well, it does not matter. You will sleep -during the day. Come, let us drink tea." - -At tea he said to me: "There were nights when I, too, did not sleep, -brother. There was a time when I could have beaten every one I met. -Even before I was a soldier my soul was troubled, but in the service -they made me deaf. An officer gave me a blow on the ear. My right ear -is deaf. There was one _feldscher_ who helped me, thanks to--" - -It was evident he wanted to say God, but he stopped, stroked his beard -and smiled. He seemed to me childish and there was something childish -in his eyes. They were so simple and credulous. - -"He was a very good man. He looked at me. 'What is the matter?' he -asked. 'Is this human life?' I answered. 'True,' he said, 'everything -ought to be changed. Peter Vasilief, let me teach you political -economy.' And he began. At first I did not understand anything. But -suddenly I understood the daily and eternal baseness in which we lived. -Then I nearly went out of my head with joy. 'Oh, you villains!' I -cried. That is the way science always suddenly unfolds itself. At first -you only hear new words and then there comes a moment when everything -unites and comes out into the light and that moment is the true birth -of man. Marvelous!" - -His face became happy and his eyes smiled softly. He nodded his shorn -head and said: - -"That is going to happen to you, too." - -It was pleasant to look at him. The child was strong in him and I -envied him. - -"Thirty-two years of my life I spent like a horse. It was disgraceful. -Well, I will make up for it as best I can. Only my mind is not very -quick. The mind is like the hands. It needs exercise. My hands are -cleverer than my head." - -I looked at him and thought, how is it that these people are not afraid -to speak about everything? - -"But for that matter," he continued, "Mishka has brains enough for -two. He has read very much. You wait till he forgets himself. The -factory priest called him 'an arch heretic.' Too bad his head is not -clear about God. That comes from his mother. My sister was a very -distinguished woman in religious matters. From Orthodox she went over -to the Old Believers, but the Old Believers did not admit her." - -As he spoke he got ready to go to work. He walked from one corner of -the room to the other. Everything about him shook. The chairs fell and -the floor bent under him as he walked. He was funny, yet pleasant to -look upon. - -"What kind of people are they?" I thought. Then I said aloud: "Can I -remain with you three days?" - -"Go ahead," he said; "three months if you wish. You are a strange -fellow. You are not in our way, thank God." - -Then he scratched his head and smiled apologetically. - -"The word God always comes to my mouth. It is from habit." - -Again the factory whistle blew, and the uncle went away. I went to -sleep in the shed. Mikhail lay there. He was frowning sternly, and his -hands were on his breast, his face was flushed. He was beardless and -without mustache, his cheekbones were high; in fact, he was all bones. - -"What kind of people are they?" - -And with this thought I fell asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - - -I awoke. There was noise, whistling, hubbub, as if at a meeting of all -the devils. I looked out into the court. It was full of youngsters and -Mikhail was among them, in a white shirt, looking like a sailboat among -small canoes. He stood laughing with his head on one side, his mouth -wide open and his eyes twinkling. He in no way resembled the serious -Lenten young man of the night before. - -The children were dressed in blue, red and pink. They shone in the sun -as they jumped and shouted. Something drew me toward them and I crawled -out from the shed. One youngster noticed me and cried out: - -"Look, fellows, here is a mo-onk!" Like fire that had been set to a -heap of dry shavings, so the children jumped, wheeled about, looked at -me and began to dance up and down. - -"Wha-at a red one!" - -"And such a hairy one, too!" - -"He'll bite you!" - -"Oh, don't tease him; he's strong." - -"He's not a monk. He's a bell-tower." - -"Mikhail Ivanich, who is he?" - -The teacher became somewhat embarrassed, and they, the little devils, -laughed. I did not know why I struck them as funny, but I caught the -spirit from them, smiled and cried to them: - -"Stop it, you mice!" - -The sun was shining, a gay noise filled the air and everything about us -fluttered and floated with it, blinding me with its light and wrapping -me in its warmth. - -Mikhail greeted me and shook my hand. - -"We are going to the wood," he said. "Do you want to come along?" - -It was a pleasant sight. There was one fat youngster who snatched my -cap, put it on his head and flew about the courtyard like a butterfly. - -I went to the wood with this band of madcaps, and the day remains -engraven on my memory. - -The children poured out into the street and fled to the mountain -lightly, like feathers in the wind. I walked alongside of their -shepherd, and it seemed to me that I had never seen such charming -children before. - -Mikhail and I walked behind them. He gave them orders, crying out to -them; but the children refused to listen to him. They jostled, fought -and bombarded one another with pine cones, and quarreled. When they -were tired they surrounded us, crawled about our feet like beetles, -pulled at their teacher's hands, asked him now about the grass, now -about the flowers, and he answered each one in a friendly way, as if -to an equal. He rose above them like a white sail. - -The children were all alert, but some of them were more serious and -thoughtful than their age warranted. Silent, they kept near their -teacher. - -Later the children again spread themselves out and Mikhail said to me, -low: - -"Are they created only for toil and drunkenness? Each one is a -receptacle of a living soul. Each one could hasten the development of -the thought which would free us from the bondage of confusion, yet -they must travel along the same dark and narrow channel through which -the days of their fathers flowed turbidly. They are ordered to work -and forbidden to think. Many of them, perhaps all, pledge allegiance -to dead strength and serve it. Here lies the source of earth's misery. -There is no freedom for the growth of the human soul." - -He talked while several young boys walked alongside of him and listened -to his words. Their attentiveness was amusing. What could these young -sprouts of life understand by his words? I remembered my own teacher. -He beat the children on the head with a ruler and would come to school -drunk. - -"Life is filled with fear," Mikhail said, "and mutual hatred eats out -the soul of man. A hideous life. But only give the children time to -develop freely; do not transform them into beasts of burden, and free -and alert, they will light up life both from within and without with -the exquisite young fire of their proud souls and the great beauty of -their eternal activity." - -Their blond heads, their blue eyes, their red cheeks were around us -like live flowers among the dark green pines. The laughter and clear -voices of these gay birds rang out--these harbingers of new life. And -all this vital beauty would be trampled down by greed! What sense was -there in that? A delicate child is born rejoicing. He grows into a -beautiful child, and then, as a grown-up man, he swears vulgarly and -groans bitterly, beats his wife and drowns his sorrow in vodka. And as -an answer to my thought, Mikhail said: - -"They go on destroying the people--the one and true temple of the -living God. And the destroyers themselves sinking in the chaos of the -ruins, see their wicked work and cry out, 'Horrible!' They rush hither -and thither and whine, 'Where is God?' while they themselves have -killed Him." - -I remembered Juna's words about the breaking up of the Russian people, -and my thoughts followed Mikhail's words lightly and pleasantly. But -I could not understand why he spoke low and without anger, as if this -whole oppressive life was a thing of the past for him. - -The earth breathed warm and friendly, with the intoxicating perfumes of -the sap and the flowers. The birds pierced the air with their twitter, -the children played about and conquered the stillness of the wood, and -it became more and more clear to me that before this day I had not -understood their strength, nor had I ever seen their beauty. It was -good to see Mikhail among them, with his calm smile on his face. I -said, smiling: - -"I am going to leave you for a little. I have to think." - -He looked at me. His eyes beamed, his eyelashes fluttered, and my heart -answered him, trembling. I had seen little of friendship, but I knew -how to value it. - -"You are a good man," I said to him. - -He became embarrassed, lowered his eyes, and I also was confused. We -stood opposite each other, silent; then separated. He called out after -me: - -"Don't go too far. You will lose your way." - -"Thank you." - -I turned into the wood, chose a place and sat down. From the distance -came the voices of the children. The thick, green wood resounded with -their laughter and it sighed. The squirrels squeaked over my head, the -finches sang. - -I wanted to explain all to my soul; all which I knew and which I had -heard these days, but everything melted within me into a rainbow, and -it enfolded me and carried me on as it floated quietly along, filling -my soul. It grew infinitely large, and I lost myself in it, forgetting -myself in a light cloud of speechless thought. - -At night I reached home and said to Mikhail that I would like to live -with them some time, until I learned their faith. For this reason I -wished Uncle Peter to find some work for me in the factory. - -"Don't hurry so," he said. "You ought to rest and read some books." - -"Give me your books," I said, for I trusted them. - -"Take them." - -"I have never read worldly books," I said. "Give me what you think I -need; for instance, a Russian history." - -"It is necessary to know everything," he answered, and looked at the -books affectionately, as at the children. - -Then I buried myself in study, reading all day long. It was difficult -for me, and painful. The books did not argue with me. They simply did -not wish to know me. One book especially tortured me. It spoke about -the development of the world and of human life. It was written against -the Bible. Everything was stated simply, clearly and positively. I -could find no loophole in this simplicity, and it seemed to me that a -whole row of strange powers were around me and that I w as among them -like a mouse in a trap. I read it twice, read it in silence, wishing -to find some flaw in it through which I could escape to liberty. But I -found none. I asked my teacher: - -"How is it? Where is the man?" - -"It seems to me, too," he said, "that this book is not true, but I -cannot explain where it is wrong. Still, after all, as a guess at the -plan of the world, it is very pretty." I liked it when he answered: -"I do not know; I cannot say." And I stood very close to him, for -evidently in this lay his honesty. When a teacher decides to be -conscious of his ignorance, it must be that he has some knowledge. - -He knew much that was unknown to me and which he related to me with -marvelous simplicity. Once he told me how the sun and the stars and the -earth were created, and he talked as if he himself saw this fiery work, -done by an unknown and wise hand. I did not understand his God, but -that did not trouble me. The principal force of this world he called -some kind of matter, but I placed instead of matter God, and all went -smoothly. - -"God is not yet created," he said, smiling. - -The question of God was a standing source of argument between Mikhail -and his uncle. As soon as Mikhail said God, Uncle Peter would get angry. - -"He has begun it again. Don't you believe him, Matvei. He has inherited -that from his mother." - -"Wait, Uncle. The question of God for Matvei is the principal question." - -"Don't you believe it, Mishka. Send him to the devil, Matvei. There are -no Gods. It is a dark wood--religion, churches and all such things are -a dark wood, where robber bandits live. It is a hoax." - -But Mikhail insisted obstinately. "The God about whom I speak existed -when men unanimously created Him from the stuff of their brains, to -illumine the darkness of their existence. But when the people were -divided into slaves and masters, into little bits and pieces; when -they lost their thought and their will-power, God was lost, God was -destroyed." - -"Do you hear, Matvei?" Peter would cry out happily. "He is dead! Long -live his memory!" - -His nephew looked straight into his face, and lowering his voice, -continued: - -"The main crime which the masters of life have committed is the -destruction of the creative power of the people. The time will come -when the will of the people will again converge to one point, and -then, again, the unconquerable and miraculous power will arise and the -resurrection of God will take place. It is He whom you seek, Matvei." - -Uncle Peter waved his hands like a wood-cutter. - -"Don't believe him, Matvei. He is wrong." - -And turning to his nephew, he stormed at him: - -"You have caught church thoughts, Mishka, like stolen cucumbers from -a strange garden, and you confuse people with them. When you say that -the working people are called to renew life, then renew it, but don't -gather up that which the priests have brought up from their holes and -dropped!" - -It interested me to listen to these people, and their mutual respect -and equality surprised me. They argued with heat, but they did not -offend each other with evil language and abuse. At times the blood -would mount to Uncle Peter's head, and he would tremble; but Mikhail -only lowered his voice and seemed to bend his large opponent to the -earth. Two men stood opposite me, and both of them denied God out of -the fulness of their sincere faith! - -"But what is my faith?" I asked myself, and found no answer. - -During my stay with Mikhail the thought about the place of God among -people sank and lost its strength and dropped its former boldness and -was supplanted by a quantity of other thoughts, and instead of the -question, "Where is God?" stood other questions: "Who am I, and why? -Wherefore do I seek God?" - -I understood that it was senseless. - -In the evenings workingmen came to Mikhail and interesting -conversations took place. The teacher spoke to them about life and -explained to them the laws which were bad. He knew them remarkably -well and explained them clearly. The workingmen were mostly young men, -dried up by the heat of the factory. Their skins were eaten by soot, -their faces were dark, their eyes sorrowful. They listened with serious -eagerness, silent and frowning, and at first they seemed to me morose -and servile. But later I understood their life better and saw that they -could sing and dance and joke with the young girls. - -The conversations of Mikhail and his uncle were always on the same -subjects--the power of money, the abasement of the workingmen, the -greed of the masters and the absolute necessity of destroying divisions -of men into classes. - -But I was no workingman and no master. I was not in search of -money, and they laid too much stress on capital, and thereby lowered -themselves. At first I argued with Mikhail, pointing out that man's -first duty was to find his spiritual birthplace and that then he would -see his own place on earth, and he would find his freedom. - -I spoke briefly, but with heat. The workingmen listened to my speech -good-naturedly and attentively, like honest judges, and some of the -elder ones even agreed with me. But when I finished Mikhail began with -his quiet smile and annihilated my words. - -"You are right, Matvei, when you say that man lives in mystery and -does not know whether God, that is, his spirit, is his enemy or his -friend. But you are not right when you say that we, who are arbitrarily -bound in the chains of the terrible misery of our daily toil, can -free ourselves from the yoke of greed without destroying the actual -prison which surrounds us. First of all we must learn the strength of -our next-door enemy and learn his cunning. For this we must find each -other and discover in each other the one thing which unites each with -all. And this one thing is our unconquerable, I can say miraculous, -strength. Slaves never had a God. They raised human laws which were -forced on them without, to Godhood, nor can there ever be a God for -slaves, for He is created from the flames of the sweet consciousness of -the spiritual relationship of each toward all. Temples are not created -from gravel and debris, but from strong whole stones. Isolation is the -breaking away from the parental whole. It is a sign of the weakness -and the blindness of the soul, for in the whole is immortality and in -isolation inevitable slavery and darkness and inconsolable yearning and -death." - -When we spoke this way it seemed to me that his eyes saw a great light -in the distance. He drew me into his circle and every one forgot about -me, but looked at him with happiness. At first this offended me. I -thought that they misunderstood my thoughts and that no one was willing -to accept any one's thoughts but Mikhail's. Unnoticed I would go away -from them, sit down in a corner and quietly hold council with my pride. - -I made friends with the pupils. On holidays they surrounded Uncle -Peter and me like ravens around sheaves of corn. He would make some -toy for them while I was bombarded with questions about Kiev, Moscow -and everything I had seen. Often one of them would ask me a question -which would make my eyes bulge out in astonishment. There was a young -boy there called Fedia Sachkof, a quiet, serious child. Once when I -was going with him through the wood, speaking to him about Christ, he -suddenly said in a firm tone: - -"Christ did not think of remaining a small boy all his life--for -instance, a boy of my age. If He had done so, He could have lived and -still have accused the rich and aided the poor, and He would not have -been crucified. He would have been a small boy, and they would have -been sorry for Him. But the way He did it, it is as if He had never -been here." - -Fedia was about eleven. His little face was white and transparent, and -his eyes were critical. - -There was another boy, Mark Lobof, a pupil of the last class. He was a -thin, quick-tempered, sharp fellow, very impudent and a bully. He would -whistle low, and pinch, beat and push the children. Once I saw him -persecuting a small, quiet boy until the latter burst into tears. - -"Mark," I said to him, "suppose he fought you back." - -Mark looked at me, laughed and answered: - -"He won't fight. He is gentle and good." - -"Then why do you hurt him?" - -"Just so," he answered. - -He whistled and then added: "Because he is gentle." - -"Well, suppose he is?" I asked. - -"What are the gentle ones made for?" - -He said that in a remarkably quiet tone, and it was evident that at -twelve years old he was already sure that the gentle people were -created for insults. - -Each child was wise in his own way, and the more I was with them the -more I thought about their fate. What did they do to deserve the -wretched, offensive life which awaited them? - -I reminded myself of Christa and my son, and remembering them, angry -thoughts arose in my soul. Do you not forbid the women free birth of -children because you fear that they might give birth to some one -dangerous and inimical to you? Do you not violate woman's will because -her free son is terrible to you, since he is not tied to you by any -bonds? You have time and the right to bind your children whom you have -brought up and equipped for the affairs of life; but you fear that -nobody's child whom you have denied your supervision may grow up into -your implacable enemy. - -There was such a nobody's child in the factory. His name was Stepa. He -was black as a beetle, pockmarked, and without eyebrows. His eyes were -little and sharp, and he was quick at everything, and very gay. - -Our acquaintance began with his coming up to me one holiday and saying: - -"Monk, I heard you are illegitimate. Well, so am I." And he walked -alongside of me. - -He was thirteen, had already finished school and was working in the -factory. He walked along, blinked his eyes, and asked: - -"Is the earth large?" - -I explained to him as best I could. "Why do you want to know?" I asked. - -"I need to know. Why should I stick in one place? I am not a tree. As -soon as I learn the locksmithing trade, I am going far into Russia, to -Moscow, and farther still. I am going everywhere." - -He spoke as if he were threatening some one. "I am coming!" - -I watched him closely after this meeting. He had a serious streak in -him. He was always where Mikhail's comrades talked, and he listened -and squinted his eyes as if taking aim where to send himself. He had a -special way of playing tricks. He teased only those who stood near to -the boss. - -Once at dinner, he said: "It is dull here, monk." - -"Why?" - -"I don't know, but they are a rotten lot. Work and trouble, nothing -more. As soon as I learn my trade I am going to get out of here, quick." - -Whenever he spoke of his future wanderings his eyes became large and he -glanced boldly and had the look of a conqueror, who staked his all on -his own strength. - -I liked this creature, and I felt something mature in his speech. "He -won't get lost," I thought to myself as I looked at him. - -My soul ached for my own son. How was he and what was going to happen -to him on this earth? - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - - -There was a quiet growth of new feelings within me. I felt that each -man sent out to me a sharp, thin ray which touched me unseen and -imperceptibly reached my heart. And I accepted these hidden rays ever -more willingly. - -At times the workingmen assembled in Mikhail's rooms, and then I felt -that a burning cloud formed from their thoughts, which surrounded me -and carried me strangely upward with itself. - -Suddenly every one began to understand me more and more. I stood in -their circle, and they were my body and I was their soul and their -will, and my speech was their voice. And at times it was I that was a -part of the body, and I heard the cry of my own soul from other mouths, -and it sounded good when I heard it. But when time passed and there was -silence I again remained alone and for myself. - -I remembered my former communion with God in my prayers. Then I had -been glad when I could wipe myself out from my memory and cease to -exist. In my relationship with people I did not lose myself; instead I -grew larger, taller, and the strength of my soul increased many-fold. -In this, too, lay self-forgetfulness, but it did not destroy me. It -quenched my bitter thoughts and the anguish of isolation. - -I realized this mistily and vaguely. I felt that a new seed was growing -in my soul, but I could not understand it. I only knew that it pulled -me determinedly toward people. - -In those days I worked in the factory for forty kopecks a day, carrying -on my shoulders heavy trays of iron, slag and brick. I hated this -hellish place, with its dirt and its noise and its hubbub, and its heat -which tortured the body. - -The factory had fastened itself onto the earth and pressed itself into -her and sucked her insatiably night and day. It was out of breath from -greed and groaned and spit out of its red-hot jaws fiery blood drawn -from the earth. It cooled off, grew black, then again began to melt -iron and to boil and thunder, flattening out the red iron and squirting -up sparks and trembling in its whole frame, as it pulled out long -strips like nerves, from the body of the earth. - -The wild labor seemed to me something terrible, something bordering on -the insane. This groaning monster, devastating the lap of the earth, -was digging an abyss under itself, and knowing that some day it would -fall into it, screeched eagerly, with a thousand voices: "Hurry! Hurry! -Hurry!" - -In fire and noise, under a rain of burning sparks, blackened men -worked. It was no place for them. About them everything threatened to -burn them by fiery death or to crush them by heavy iron; everything -deafened and blinded. The unbearable heat dried up the blood, but they -did their work quietly, walking about with a masterly confidence, like -devils in hell, fearing nothing and knowing nothing. - -They lifted small levers with strong hands, and all around and above -them hands and jaws of enormous machines moved quietly and terribly, -crumbling the iron. It was hard to know whose mind and whose will -reigned here. At times it was man who controlled and governed this -factory according to his wishes. But other times it seemed that all -the people and the whole factory were subject to the devil and that -he laughed aloud, triumphantly and horribly as he saw the mad and -difficult rush created by greed. - -The workers said to one another: "It is time to go to work." Were the -men masters of their work, or did it drive and crush them? I did not -know. Work seemed difficult and masterful, but the human mind was sharp -and quick. Sometimes there would ring out amid this devilish noise of -whirring machines a victorious and care-free song. I would smile in my -heart, remembering the story of Ivan the Fool, who rode on a whale up -to heaven to catch the wonder-bird, Phoenix. - -The people in the factory, though they were not friendly to me, were -all bold and proud. They were abusive, foul-mouthed and often drunk; -yet they were free and fearless people. They were different from the -pilgrims and the tillers of the soil, who offended me with their -servile, confused souls, their hopeless complainings and their petty -cheatings in their affairs with God and themselves. These people were -bold in thought, and although they were hurt by the slavery of their -labor, and grew angry with one another and even fought, yet if the -bosses ever acted unfairly, thereby rousing their sense of justice, -they would stand together against them as one man. - -And those workingmen who followed Mikhail were always among the first, -spoke louder than the rest and seemed to fear nothing. Formerly, when -I did not think about the people, I did not notice men; but now as -I looked upon them I wished to detect differences, so that each one -might stand out separately before me. I succeeded in this and yet not -entirely. Their speech was different and each one had his own face, -but their faith-was the same and their plans were one. Without haste, -friendly and sincerely, they were building something new. Each one of -them, among his fellows, was like a pleasant light; like a meadow in -a thick wood for the wanderer who had lost his way. Each one drew to -himself the workingmen who were wider awake than the rest, and all -these followers of Mikhail were held together by one plan, and they -created a spiritual circle in the factory, a fire of brightly burning -thoughts. - -At first the workingmen were not friendly to me. They shouted and made -fun of me. - -"Oh, you red-haired fly! You cloister-bug! You foul one! Parasite!" - -At times they struck me, but this I could not stand, and in such -cases I did not spare my fists. Though people admire strength, still -one cannot gain esteem and attention through his fists, and I would -have had to bear many beatings were it not that at one of my quarrels -a friend of Mikhail's, one Gavriel Kostin, interfered. He was a young -metal pourer, very handsome and respected by the whole factory. Six men -had come up to me and their looks boded ill for my back. But he stood -next to me and said: - -"Why do you provoke a man, comrades? Is he not as much a worker as the -rest of us? You do wrong, and against yourselves. Our strength lies in -close friendship." - -He said these few words, but he said them so well and so simply, as if -he were talking to children. The friends of Mikhail always made use of -every incident to spread their ideas. - -Kostin embarrassed my opponents and the words touched my heart also. I -began to talk. - -"I did not become a monk," I said, "to have much to eat, but because my -soul was starved. I have lived and I have seen that everywhere labor is -endless and hunger common; that everywhere there is swindle and fraud, -bitterness and tears, brutality and every kind of darkness of the soul. -By whom was this arranged? Where is our righteous and wise God? Does He -see the infinite and eternal martyrdom of the people?" - -A crowd collected about me and listened earnestly to my words. I -finished and there was silence. - -Finally, the head model-maker, Kriokof, said to Kostin: - -"That monk there sees things deeper than you and your comrades. He has -taken hold of the root of the matter." - -It pleased me to hear these words. Kriokof slapped me on my shoulder -and said: - -"You have spoken well, brother, but all the same cut your hair by a -yard. Such a mane catches the dirt and looks funny." - -And some one called out: - -"And is in the way in a fight." - -They were joking. Evidently their wrath had passed. Where there is -laughter, there is man; the animal is gone. - -Kostin took me aside. "Be careful with such words, Matvei," he said. -"You can get into prison for them." - -I was astonished. "What!" - -"In prison," he laughed. - -"Why?" - -"For criticizing." - -"Are you joking?" - -"Ask Mikhail," he said. "I have to go to work now." - -He went away. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - - -I was very much astonished at his words. I could hardly believe them, -but in the evening Mikhail confirmed them. All evening he told me about -the cruel persecutions. It seemed that for such speeches as I had made -thousands of people suffered death, were sent to Siberia and to the -mines; yet, though the slaughter of Herod was in no way diminishing, -the faithful were ever increasing in numbers. - -Something grew and became clear in my soul, and the speeches of Mikhail -and his comrades took on another meaning, for, first of all, if a man -was ready to give up his freedom and even his life for his faith, -it meant that he was a sincere believer, and he resembled the early -martyrs who followed the laws of Christ. - -Mikhail's words grew connected and blossomed out and came close to my -soul. I do not mean to say that I understood his words at once and -fathomed their depths, but for the first time that evening I felt their -close relationship to my heart, and the whole earth seemed to me a -Bethlehem saturated with the blood of children. I grew to understand -the keen desire of the Virgin Mother when, looking upon hell, she asked -of the Archangel Mikhail: "Oh, Archangel, let me suffer in this fire. -Let me take part in this great agony." Only that here I did not see -sinners, but righteous ones, wishing to destroy the hell upon earth, -for the sake of which they were serenely prepared to undergo all -suffering. - -"Perhaps there are no longer holy anchorites," I said to Mikhail, -"because man is not going away from the world, but toward the world." - -"The true faith," he answered, "comes out in a true movement." - -"Take me into this movement," I begged of him. - -Everything burned within me. - -"No," he answered. "Wait a while and consider it. It is still too soon -for you. If you, with your character, should fall into the enemy's -noose at present, you would be entangled in it uselessly and for a long -time. On the other hand, you ought to go away after what you have said. -There is much that is still not clear to you, and you are not free -enough for our work. Its great beauty has captivated and allured you, -but though it is displayed before you in its whole strength you stand -before it as if you were standing in a square room from which you can -see the temple being built, in all its immensity and beauty. But it is -being built quietly and evenly day by day, and if you are not familiar -with the whole plan, the sublime temple will disappear and vanish from -your vision, and the vision, which was not deep in your soul, will -vanish and the labor of building will seem beyond your strength." - -"Why do you quench my ardor?" I asked him with pain. "I have found a -place for myself and was happy when I saw that I could be useful." - -He answered me calmly and sadly: - -"I do not consider that you are capable of living by a plan which is -not clear to you, and I see that the consciousness of your relation to -the spirit of the working class has not yet arisen in your soul. You -have been sharpened by the friction of life, and you stand in advance -of the thought of the people. You do not look upon yourself as one of -them, but it seems to me that you consider yourself a hero, ready to -give alms to the weak from the overflow of your strength; that you -consider yourself something special, living for yourself, and that in -yourself is the beginning and end, and that you are not a link in the -exquisite and immense unending chain." - -I began to understand why he sent me back to earth and unconsciously -felt that his words were right. - -"You should begin wandering again," he said, "to look upon the life of -the people with new eyes. Do not take books along with you. Reading -will give you nothing. You do not yet believe that it is not human -intelligence which is found in books, but the infinite diversity of the -striving of the soul of the people toward freedom. Books do not seek to -master you, but give you the weapon for emancipation; you do not yet -understand how to hold this weapon in your hand." - -He spoke truly. Books were strangers to me at this time. I was used -to church writings, but I could not grasp worldly thought except with -great difficulty. The spoken word gave me much more than the written. -The thoughts which I gathered from books lay on the surface of my soul -and were quickly effaced and melted away by my fire. They did not -answer my principal question: What was the law which governed God, and -why, if man was made in His image, did He degrade him against His will? -And, moreover, whose was this will? - -Side by side with this question, not antagonizing it, lived another. -Was God brought down from heaven on this earth, or was He raised from -earth up to heaven by the strength of the people? And here arose the -burning thought that the creation of God was the eternal work of the -whole people. - -My heart was cut in two. I wanted to remain with these people, yet -something pulled me to go away and prove my new thought and to search -for this unknown something which robbed me of my liberty and confused -my spirit. - -Uncle Peter urged me also: "You ought to go away for some time, Matvei. -There has been some dangerous talk about your speech." - -And soon things decided themselves without my control. One night -a messenger came on horseback from a neighboring factory with the -announcement that gendarmes were making house searches in their place -and that undoubtedly they would soon be here. - -"Ah, it is too soon," said Mikhail with anger. - -There was a hurrying and scurrying to and fro and Uncle Peter cried to -me: - -"Go, Matvei, go! You have nothing to do here. You did not make the soup -and you needn't eat it." - -Mikhail insisted, looking straight into my face. - -"You had better go away from here. Your presence will help very little -and may do some harm." - -I understood that they wanted to get rid of me, and it hurt me. But -at this time I felt that I was afraid of the gendarmes. I did not see -them, yet I feared them! I knew that it was not right to leave people -in their need, but I succumbed to their will. They sent me away. - -I went up the mountain to the wood through underbrush, between tree -stumps. I stumbled as if I was held by my heels. Behind me a young boy -hurried along, Ivan Vikof, with a great pack on his back. He was sent -to hide books in the wood. - -We ran forward to the edge of the wood. He found a hiding place and -buried his burden. He was calm, but not I. - -"Will they come here?" I asked him. - -"Who knows?" he answered. "Perhaps they will come here. You must hurry." - -He was an awkward boy, and he looked as if he were hacked out from an -oak-tree with an ax. His head was large, one shoulder was higher than -the other, his long arms were out of proportion, and his voice was sad. - -"Are you afraid?" I asked him. - -"Of what?" - -"That they will come and take you." - -"If they only don't find what I have hidden, I don't care what they do." - -He arranged the books with care in the pit, covered them over, smoothed -the earth down and threw brush upon it. He sat down on the ground, and -seeing that I was getting ready to go away, he said: - -"Some one will come with a note for you. Wait." "What kind of a note?" - -"I don't know." - -I looked out from the trees into the valley. The factory breathed -heavily, like a strong man who is being choked. It seemed to me that -men were being pursued in the streets and that in the darkness they ran -after one another; they fought, they snarled in anger, ready to break -each other's bones. And Ivan, without haste, was getting ready to go -down. - -"Where are you going?" - -"Home." - -"They will take you." - -"I am not long in the movement, and they do not know me. And if they -take me, there is no harm done. People come out wiser from prison." - -Here some one loudly and clearly asked me: "How is it, Matvei? You are -not afraid of God, and yet you fear the gendarmes." - -I looked at Ivan. He was standing and gazing down thoughtfully. - -"What did you say?" I asked. - -"You read many books in prison." - -"Is that all?" - -"Isn't that enough?" - -There were several lies that were rotting within me, and shameful -questions shot up with piercing sparks. The night was cold, but I -burned. - -"I am going with you." - -"You must not," Ivan said sternly. "They will certainly arrest you. -This whole trouble began on account of your speech." - -"How?" - -"A priest in Verkhotour gave it away." - -I sat down on the ground and said to myself: - -"Then I have to go." - -But fear took hold of me. - -"Some one is running," Ivan whispered low. - -I looked down from the mountain. Thick shadows were crawling over it. -The sky was clouded, the moon in its last quarter now showed itself, -now hid itself in the clouds. The whole earth about me moved, and from -this noiseless movement something oppressive and fearful fell on me. I -watched the torrents of shadows which flowed over the earth and which -covered up the undergrowth and my soul with black veils. - -A head moved among the brush, jumping like a ball among the branches. -Ivan whistled low and said: - -"It is Kostia!" - -I knew Kostia. He was a boy of about fifteen, blue-eyed, blond and -weak. He had finished school two years ago. Mikhail was preparing him -to be his assistant. - -I understood that I was thinking about these little details on purpose, -for I wanted to put my thoughts aside and stifle my shame and my fear. - -Kostia arrived panting, his voice broken. - -"They have arrived. They have asked for you, Monk. Here, Uncle Peter -wrote a note and told me to take you to the Lobanofsky monastery. Let -us go." - -I rose and said to Ivan: "Good-by, brother. Greet them all for me and -ask them to forgive me." - -But Kostia pushed me and commanded me severely: - -"Go along! Whom are you greeting? They are all taken like hens for the -market." - -We went along. Kostia went ahead, telling me in a low voice all that he -saw below, and I followed him. But I was pulled from all sides, by my -hands and the skirts of my coat, as if some one were asking me: - -"Where are you going? You have entrapped people and you yourself are -escaping." - -I spoke aloud, to myself: "So on account of me people were lost!" - -The boy answered: "Not on account of you, but on account of truth. Are -you truth? What a queer fellow!" - -His words were funny and he himself was small, but still they struck -home. I wanted to set myself right before him, and I laid out my -thoughts as a beggar lays out the crumbs from his bag. - -"Yes," I said, "it is evident that a great untruth lives within me." - -He muttered, answering each one of my words like a conscience: - -"Why great? You must always have something greater in you than any one -else." - -"Those are not his words," I thought. "He has copied them from some -one." - -"Kostin was right when he called you a bell tower. But you are not the -kind that rings only for mass, but one which rings by itself, because -it was built crooked and the bells are badly hung." - -He remained silent, and then he added: - -"I don't like you, Monk. You are so strange." - -"How?" - -"I don't know. Are you really a Russian? I don't think you are good." - -At any other time I would have become angry, but now I was silent. -I became suddenly weak, tired unto death. Night and the wood were -around us. Between the trees the gray darkness fell thickly and became -dense. It w as difficult to tell which was night and which was tree. -The moonbeams glistened above, broke themselves upon the body of the -darkness and vanished. It was quiet. All these people, beginning with -Juna, bore no fear. Some were filled with anger, others were always -gay, and most of them were quiet, modest people, who seemed to be -ashamed to show their goodness. - -Kostia walked along the path, and his blond head shone like a light -before me. I recalled the youth of Bartholomew, the God-child Alexei -and others. No, that was not the right! - -My thoughts were like water-hens in a puddle, jumping from stump to -stump. - -"Have you read the 4 Lives of the Saints'?" I asked the boy. - -"I read them when I was little. My mother made me. Why?" - -"Did you like those chosen ones of God?" - -"I don't know. Ponteleimon I liked; and George also. He fought with the -dragon. But I don't know what good it did the people to have dozens of -them made holy." - -Kostia grew in my eyes. - -"If a Czar's daughter or a rich man's daughter believed in Christ and -underwent martyrdom for her belief, neither the Czar nor the kingdom -were ever better to the people for it? It is not spoken of in the -legends that the tyrant Czars became good." - -Then, after a silence, he said: - -"Nor do I know of what good Christ's martyrdom was. He wanted to -conquer suffering, and what came of it?" - -He grew thoughtful and then added: - -"Nothing came of it." - -I wanted to embrace him. Pity arose in my heart for Kostia, for Christ, -for all the people who remained in the village, for the whole human -world. And what of me? Where was my place? Where was I going? - -The darkness of the short night was lifting, and from above a quiet -light came through the branches of the pine trees. - -"You are not tired, Kostia?" - -"I?" the small boy answered proudly. "No. I like to walk in the night. -It seems to me then that I walk through wonderland. I love fairy tales." - -At dawn we lay down to sleep. Kostia fell asleep quickly, as if he had -dived into a river, but I circled around my thoughts like a Tartar -beggar around a Christian church in winter. It is stormy and cold in -the street, but it is forbidden by Mohammed to enter the temple. - -I decided upon something towards morning, and when the boy awoke, I -said to him: - -"Forgive me that I made you walk with me for nothing. I am not going to -the monastery. I don't want to hide." - -He looked at me seriously and said: - -"You have already hidden." Then, without looking at me, he began to -wave a twig. - -"Well, good-by, dear." - -He bowed his head: "Good-by," he answered. - -I went away, then looked back. He stood there among the trees following -me with his eyes. - -"Eh," he cried, "good-by!" - -It pleased me that he said it with more tenderness this time. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - - -Like one sick, I wandered for many days, full of heavy heartache. A -fire raged in my soul, that quiet piece of land of mine, and lit it up -like a meadow in the wood, and my thoughts now crawled ahead of me, -together with my shadow; now dragged behind, like biting smoke. Was I -ashamed or not? I do not remember and I cannot say. A black thought was -born in my mind and fluttered about me like a bat. "They are Godless -ones, not God-creators." - -But heavier and broader than all my thoughts, was a hollow stillness -in me, lazy and deep; a certain peace like a turbid pool, in the -depths of whose heart dumb thoughts swam about with difficulty, like -frightened fish who struggle but cannot rise to the light from out of -the oppressive depths. - -Little reached me from the outside, and I remember my meetings with men -as through a dream. Somewhere near Omsk, at a village market, I woke -up. A blind man sat on the road in the dust and sang a song. His guide -knelt near him and accompanied him on his accordion. The old man looked -up at heaven with his empty eyes and sang the words with a faraway, -rusty voice, describing the past, under the reign of Ivan Vasilef, and -the accordion gave out its hollow accompaniment, "U-u-u." - -I sat down on the ground next to the blind man. He took hold of my -hand, held it, let it go again, but did not stop singing: "Once there -lived Ermak, a son of Timotheof." "A-a-a," the accordion repeated. - -And around the singers a crowd collected quietly, listening -thoughtfully and seriously to the story of the past, with heads bowed -to the ground. A dry warmth enfolded me and I saw curiosity light up -the eyes of the men, and some one asked: - -"Won't he sing?" - -"He will. Wait." - -I had often heard these robber ballads, but I never knew whose were -the words nor whose the soul mirrored there. But now all at once I -understood. The ancient people spoke to me with a thousand tongues. "I -pardon your great sins against me, man, for your small service." - -People still looked at me with, curiosity, and my spirit was aroused. -The old man finished his song, and I arose and said: - -"Orthodox Christians, here you have heard about a robber who plundered -and robbed the people, but, afterwards, his conscience troubling him, -he went away to save his soul, wishing to serve the people with his -great strength. And he served them. But to-day you are living among -robbers who exploit you mercilessly, and in what way do they serve the -people? What good do you see in them?" - -The crowd thickened around me, almost embracing me, and their -attention made my words grow strong and gave them tone and beauty, and -I lost myself in my words. I only felt a close alliance to the earth -and to the people. They lifted me up towards themselves, drawing me on -by their silence: "Speak; speak the whole truth as you see it!" - -Of course a policeman arrived and cried: "Move on!" asking what was the -matter and demanding my passport. - -The people melted quietly away, like a cloud in the sun, and the -policeman questioned and made inquiries as to what I said. Some -answered: "About God; about many things; mainly about God." - -I saw a workingman standing apart. He leaned up against his wagon and -gazed steadily at me, smiling tenderly. The policeman had taken hold -of my collar, and I wanted to shake him off, but I saw that the people -looked sideways at me, with half-closed eyes, as if they were asking: -"Now, what are you going to say?" - -I paled at their lack of faith. Conquering myself in time, I shook off -the hand of the policeman and said to him: - -"Do you want to know what I said?" - -And again I began to speak about injustice in life. Again the market -people gathered around me in great crowds, and the policeman was lost -in them and effaced. - -I recalled Kostia and the factory children, and I felt proud and -happy. I became strong and as in a dream. The policeman whispered, many -faces passed before me, many eyes burned; a warm cloud of people were -around me, pushed me along, and I lay lightly among them. Some one took -me by the shoulder and whispered in my ear: "Enough. Go." - -They pushed and pushed me, and soon I found myself in a kind of court, -and a black-bearded man was on one side of me and on the other a young -boy with no cap on his head. The dark man said: - -"Climb over the wall." - -I climbed it, then went over another. It seemed to me queer, yet -pleasant. - -"Eh," I thought, "is that who you are?" - -The black-bearded man hurried me along. "Lively, comrade, lively!" - -I asked him on the way: "Who are you?" - -"One of yours," he answered. - -The boy without the cap followed us silently. We crossed gardens, came -to a ravine at the bottom of which a stream ran along, and found a -footpath in the brush. The dark man led me by the hand, looked into my -eyes and said, smiling: - -"Well, good luck to you. Here, Fediok will conduct you to a good road. -Go." - -"You had better hurry. They might get you." The dark man bent down, -began crawling up the mountain, and Fediok and I went along by the -stream. - -"Who is that man?" I asked him. - -"A blacksmith. An exile--for political reasons." - -"I know such people," I answered. - -I felt happy, but he was silent. I looked at the young man. His face -was round, his nose short. His head seemed cut out from stone, and -his gray eyes bulged far apart. He spoke low, walked noiselessly and -held his head forward, as if he was listening or was pulled from -above by some great force. He kept his hands behind his back, as my -father-in-law used to. - -"Are you a native here?" - -"Yes, I am a farm hand at the priest's." - -"Where is you cap?" - -He felt his head, looked at me and asked: - -"Why do you care about the cap?" - -"Just so. It is night, and you will be cold." - -He remained silent. Then he muttered unwillingly: - -"What does it matter about the cap as long as one's head is saved?" - -The ravine became deeper, the stream sounded clearer, and night rose -from the underbrush. - -My soul was unclear, yet I felt happy, and I wished to speak with the -young man. - -"Have you only one exile here?" I asked. - -Here the young man opened himself as one opens an overcoat. Slowly and -low, he said: - -"Four. There is a nobleman from Moscow and three from the Don. Two of -them are quiet fellows. They even drink vodka. But the nobleman and -that Ratkof who was here before, speak, though in secret, with whomever -they can. They have not yet begun to speak openly before the people. -There are many of them here, many around us. I, from Birsky--Fedor -Mitkof, am here five years. During this time there were eleven men -here. In Olekhine there are eight; in Shishkof there are three." - -He counted for a long time, and he reached about sixty. When he -finished he became thoughtful; then began to speak, gesticulating with -his finger. - -"There are even some peasants among them. They all say the same thing; -this life is unbearable; it stifles them. I lived in peace until I -heard these words, and now I see I am not yet full grown and I must bow -my head. Then, in truth, it must be that this life is stifling." - -The young fellow spoke with difficulty, tearing each word from under -his feet. He walked ahead of me and did not look at me. He was -broad-shouldered and strong. - -"Can you read and write?" I asked him. - -"I once knew how, but have forgotten. Now I am studying again. It -doesn't matter, I know how. When one has to, one can do everything. And -I have to. If it were the noblemen who spoke about the difficulty of -this life, I would not take any notice of it, for their beliefs were -always different from ours. But when it is your own brothers, the poor -working class, then it must be true. And moreover, some of the common -people go even farther than the noblemen. That means that something -social and human is beginning. That is what they always say--social, -human. I am human. Then it means my way lies with them, that is what I -think." - -I listened to him and said to myself: "Learn, Matvei." - -"What is the use of thinking about such a thing?" I said to him. "It is -God's affair." - -He stopped, suddenly standing stiff upon the ground, so that I almost -fell upon Iris back. Then he turned his face towards me and asked -sternly: - -"Is it really God's affair? Here is what I think about it. This is -why they say, 4 Honor your father.' And they say the authorities are -also from God. And this they confirm by miracles. But then if the old -laws are changed, new miracles should have come. But where are they? -There were no signs when new laws came, none whatever. Everything is -as it was. In Nijni they discovered relics which performed miracles. -But then a rumor arose that they were not true relics, for Seraphim's -beard was gray and this one was red. The question is not the beard, -but the miracle. Were there any miracles? There were, but they don't -want to admit it. They call all signs false, or they say faith creates -miracles. There are times when I want to beat them to stop their -confounding my soul." - -Again he stopped, and around him the night rose from the earth. The -path fell more steeply, the stream flowed on more hastily, and the -brush rustled, moving quietly. - -"Go on, brother," I said to him, low. - -He went forward. He did not stumble in the darkness but I almost fell -on his back every step I took. He seemed to roll down like a stone, and -his strange voice resounded in the stillness. - -"If I believed them, it would be an end of everything. I am not -especially kind-hearted. I had a brother in the military, and he hanged -himself. My sister worked as a servant in a farmer's house near Birsky, -and she gave birth to a child who is lame. It is four years old now and -cannot walk. It means that a girl's life was ruined on account of a -man's caprice. Where should she go now? My father is a drunkard and my -elder brother has taken all the land. I have nothing." - -We turned into the underbrush in the gray darkness. Now the stream went -away from us into the depth, now again it flowed at our feet. Over our -heads the night birds flew noiselessly, and above them were the stars. - -I wanted to walk fast, but the man in front of me did not hurry and -muttered to himself unceasingly, as if he were counting his words, and -taking their weight. - -"That dark one, Ratkof, is a good man. He lives according to the new -law and takes the part of the oppressed. A policeman once beat me with -a club and he immediately felled the policeman to the ground. He had to -sit fourteen days for it. 'How can you fight the authorities?' I asked -him when he came out. He immediately explained his law to me. I went -to the priest, and the priest said, 'Ah, are these the thoughts you -are plaiting?' Ratkof was sent to the prison in the city. He sat three -months, and I nineteen days. 'What did he say?' they asked me there. -'Nothing.' 'What did he teach?' 'He taught nothing.' I am no fool -myself. Ratkof came out. 'Forgive me,' I said to him, 'I was a fool.' -But he laughed. 'It was nonsense,' he said." - -My guide remained silent, and then, in a new voice, and lower, he -continued: - -"Everything is nonsense to him. He spits blood, that is nonsense; he -starves, that too is nonsense." - -Suddenly he began to swear grossly, turned about and faced me, and -hissed through his teeth: - -"I can understand everything. My brother died--that happens in the -military. My sister's case is not a rare one. But why do they torture -that man to death? That I cannot understand. I go like a dog wherever -he sends me. He calls me Earth. 'Eh, you Earth,' he says and laughs. -But the fact that they are always torturing him, that is like a knife -in my heart!" - -And again he began to swear like a drunken monk. - -The ravine opened, broadened its walls down into the field, leveled -them and vanished into the darkness. - -"Well," said my guide, "good-by." - -He pointed out to me the road to Omsk, turned back and disappeared. He -was still without his cap. - -When his heavy steps died in the stillness I sat down, not desiring to -go farther. The night lay heavily on the earth and slept, fresh, and -thick, like oil. There were no stars in the heavens, no moon, no light -about. But there was warmth and light within me. - -The heavy words of my guide burned within my memory. He was like a bell -that had lain a long time on the earth, and had been covered by it and -eaten out by rust, and though his tone was dull yet there was a new -sound in it. - -The village people stood before my eyes as they listened to my speech -seriously and wonderingly. Their troubled faces passed before me as -they dragged me away from the police. - -"Is that the way it is?" I thought, marveling, and I could scarcely -believe what had happened to me. - -Again I thought. "This young man seeks signs and omens. He himself is -a miracle. It is a miracle to preserve love for man in this horrible -life. And the crowd who heard me, that, too, was a miracle, that it -should not be deaf or blind, though many for a long time have tried to -deafen and blind it. And a still greater miracle were Mikhail and his -comrades." - -My thoughts flowed calmly and easily. I was unaccustomed to it and did -not expect it. I examined myself carefully, searched my heart quietly, -wishing to find there anxiety and troubled doubt. - -I smiled in the silent darkness and feared to move, lest I drive away -the unwonted joy which filled my heart to the very brim. I believed and -yet did not believe this marvelous fulness of my soul, this unexpected -Godsend which I found in me. - -It was as if a white bird, who was born long before, had slept in -the shadow of my soul, and I had not known it or felt it. I stroked -it accidentally and it awoke and began to sing quietly within me and -flutter its light wings in my heart, and its hot song melted the ice of -doubt and turned it into grateful tears. - -I wanted to say something, to arise, to sing, to meet human beings and -to embrace them. I saw before me the shining face of Juna, the kind -eyes of Mikhail, the stern wit of Ivostia. All the familiar, dear and -new people became alive to me, united in my breast and broadened it -with happiness till it ached. - -So it had happened before while saying Mass at Easter, that I loved -people and myself. I sat down, and thought tremblingly: - -"O Lord, is it not Thou, this beauty of beauties, this joy and this -happiness?" - -Darkness reigned about me, and in it were the shining faces of the -Believers sitting quietly. But my heart sang unceasingly. - -I stroked the earth with my hand, I patted it with my palm, as if it -were a horse, which understood my caress. - -I could not sit still. I arose and walked on through the night. I -remembered Kostia's words. I saw before me the look of childish -sternness in his eyes, and I Went on, drunk with joy, walking over the -earth towards the very end of autumn, gathering up into my soul its -precious new gifts. - -At the station in Omsk I saw emigrants, Little Russians. A great part -of the earth was covered with their bodies, those friends of labor. I -walked among them, heard their soft speech and asked them: - -"Are you not afraid to lose yourselves, so far away?" - -A man gray and bent by work, answered me: - -"As long as we have a piece of land under our feet, we do not care how -far it is. It is suffocating on earth when a man has to live by his own -labor." - -Formerly the words of pain and sorrow fell like ashes on my heart, but -now they were keen sparks which lit it up, for every sorrow was my -sorrow, and I too suffered from the want of liberty, as did the people. - -There is no time nor place for general spiritual growth, and this -is bitter and dangerous to the one who outstrips the people, for he -remains alone in advance of them, and the people do not see him and -cannot strengthen him with their strength; and alone and uselessly he -burns himself up in the fire of his desires. - -I spoke in Little Russian, for I knew this tender language. - -"For ages the people have wandered over the earth, hither and thither, -seeking a place where they may in freedom build up a righteous life -with their own strength, and for ages you have wandered over the -earth, its lawful masters, and why? Who is it that gives no room to -the people, the real Czar of the earth? Who has dethroned them? Who -has torn the crown from their heads and driven them from country to -country, these creators of all labor, these exquisite gardeners who -planted all the beauty on the earth?" - -The eyes of the people burned. The human soul which was just awakened -in them glowed, and my own glance also became wide and keen. I saw the -question on each face and immediately answered it; I saw doubt and I -fought with it. I drew strength from the hearts which were opened about -me, and I united this strength into one heart. - -When you speak to people some word which touches them as a whole, -which lies buried secretly and deep in each human soul, then their eyes -shine with glowing strength and fill you and carry you above them. But -do not think that it is your strength which carries you. You are winged -with the crossing of all strength in your heart. It surrounds you from -without; you are strong by its strength just as long as the people fill -you up with it; but should they go away, should their spirit vanish, -you again fall back to the level of all. - -So I began my teaching modestly, calling the people to a new service in -the name of a new life, though I did not know how to name my new God. -In Zlatout on a holiday I spoke in the square, and again the police -interfered, and again the people hid me. - -I met many splendid men and women. One whose name was Yashka Vladikine, -a student in a theological seminary, is now a good friend of mine and -will remain so for all my life. He does not believe in God, but he -loves church music to tears. He plays psalms on the organ and weeps, -the dear wonder-child. - -I asked him laughing: "What are you howling at, you heretic, atheist?" - -He cried out, tremblingly: "From joy at the knowledge of the great -beauty which some day will be created. If already in this worldly and -wretched life beauty has been created with the insignificant strength -of individuals, what will be created on earth when the whole spiritual -world shall be free and shall begin to express the order of its great -spirit in psalms and music?" - -He began to speak about the future, which stood out with blinding -clearness to him, and he was himself surprised at his visions. - -I have much to be grateful for to this friend of mine, as much as to -Mikhail. - -I have seen marvelous people by tens, for they send me to one another -from city to city. I go as with fiery signals, and each one is kept -burning by the same faith. It is impossible to enumerate the various -people and to describe the joy at seeing the spiritual unity which lies -in all. Great is the Russian people and indescribably beautiful is -life. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - - -It was in the government of Kazan that my heart received the last blow, -the blow which finished the construction of the temple. It was at the -monastery of the Seven Seas, at a procession of the miracle-working -ikon of the Holy Virgin. They were expecting the return of this ikon to -the monastery from the city--the day was a holiday. - -I stood on a little hill above the lake and gazed about me. The -place-was filled with people, and the body of human beings streamed -in dark waves to the gates of the monastery, and fought and struggled -around its walls. The sun was setting and its autumn rays shone with -bright red. The bells trembled like birds ready to fly and follow their -own songs, and everywhere the bared heads of the people shone red in -the rays of the sun, like double poppies. - -Awaiting the miracle, near the gates of the monastery, stood a small -carriage, in which lay a young girl, motionless. Her face was set as if -in white wax, her gray eyes were half open, and all her life seemed to -be in the quiet fluttering of her long lashes. - -Next to her stood her parents. The father was a tall man, gray-bearded -and with a long nose. The mother, stout, round-faced, with uplifted -eyebrows and wide open eyes, gazed in front of her. Her fingers -moved and it seemed to me that she was about to give a piercing and -passionate cry. - -The people walked up to them, gazed upon the sick girl's face, and the -father spoke in measured tones, his beard trembling: - -"Orthodox Christians, I beg of you, pray for the unfortunate girl. -Without arms, without legs, she has been lying thus for four years. -Beg the Holy Virgin for aid. The Lord will reward you for your holy -prayers. Help deliver the parents from sorrow." - -It was plain that he had been carrying his daughter from monastery to -monastery for a long time and that he had already lost all hope of her -recovery. He poured out these same words over and over again and they -sounded dead in his mouth. - -The people listened to his prayers, sighed, crossed themselves, and the -lids which covered the sorrowful eyes of the young girl trembled. - -I must have seen about a score of weakened girls, about ten who were -supposed to be possessed, and other kinds of invalids, and I was always -conscience-stricken and ashamed before them. I pitied the poor bodies -robbed of strength and I pitied their vain waiting for a miracle. But -I never felt pity to such a degree as now. A great silent complaint -seemed frozen on the white half-dead face of the daughter and a silent -and indescribable sorrow seemed to control the mother. - -It was oppressive and I went away. Thousands of eyes were looking -toward the distance, and like a cloud there floated toward me the warm, -dull whisper: "They are carrying it." - -Heavily and slowly the crowd proceeded up the mountain like a dark wave -of the sea, and the golden banners burned like red foam, shooting out -their sheaves of bright sparks. The ikon of the holy virgin floated and -swung like a fiery bird shining in the rays of the sun. From the human -body a mighty sigh arose, a thousand-voiced song: "Intercede for us, O -mother of the Lord, most high." - -The song was cut short by cries: "Hurry! Move faster! Hurry!" - -The lake smiled brightly in the frame-work of the blue wood; the red -sun melted, sinking into the wood, and the copper sound of the bells -rang out gaily. Around me were anxious faces, the quiet and sorrowful -whispering of prayers, eyes dimmed with tears, and the waving of many, -many arms, making the sign of the cross. - -I was alone. All this was sad error for me, weak despair, a weary -desire for grace. - -The procession marched on, their faces covered with dust, streams of -sweat pouring down their cheeks. They breathed heavily, they gazed -strangely as if they saw nothing, and pushed one another and stumbled -along. - -I pitied them. I pitied the strength of their faith which was wasted -on the air. There was no end to this stream of people. A vigorous and -mighty cry arose, but it was dark and sounded reproachful: - -"Rejoice, O merciful one," and again, "Hurry! Hurry!" - -In this whole cloud of dust I saw hundreds of black faces, thousands -of eyes like stars on the milky way. I saw that those eyes were fiery -sparks from one soul, eagerly awaiting an unknowm joy. - -The people went down as one body, pressing close upon one another, -holding one another's hands and walking fast, as if the road was -terribly long, but they were ready to go to what was their end without -stopping. - -My soul trembled with an unknown pain. Like a prayer the words of Juna -rose in my memory: "The people--the creators of God." - -I started forward. I rushed from the mountain to meet the people, went -along with them and sang with a full throat: "Rejoice, beneficent -strength of all strengths!" - -They seized and embraced me, and I seemed to float away and to melt -under their hot breathing. I did not know that the earth was under my -feet, nor did I recognize myself. There was no time nor space, only -joy, vast like the heavens. I was like a glowing coal, flaming with -faith. I was unimportant yet great and resembled all who were around me -at the time of our general flight. - -"Hurry! Hurry!" - -The people flew over the earth irresistibly, ready to stride over all -obstacles and abysses, all doubts and dark fears. I remember that the -procession stopped close to me, that confusion occurred, that I was -dragged near the wagon of the sick girl and heard the cries and the -murmuring: - -"Let us sing the Te Deum; let us sing the Te Deum." - -There was great excitement. They pushed the wagon, and the head of -the young girl rocked to and fro, helpless and without strength. Her -large eyes gazed out with fear. Tens of eyes poured their rays out upon -her; hundreds of force streams crossed themselves over her weak body, -calling her to life with an imperious desire to see her rise from her -bed. - -I, too, looked into the depths of her eyes, and an inexpressible desire -came over me, in common with all, that she arise; not for my sake, nor -for her own sake, but for some special reason, before which she and I -were like a bird's feather in a fire. - -As rain saturates the earth with its live moisture, so the people -filled the dry body of the girl with their strength, and they whispered -and cried to her and to me: - -"Rise, dear one, rise. Lift your arms. Be not afraid. Arise, arise -without fear. Sick one, arise; dear one, lift your arms." - -Hundreds of stars arose in her soul and a pink shadow lit up her -death-like face, and her surprised and happy eyes opened still wider. -Her shoulders moved slowly and humbly she raised her trembling arms and -obediently held them up. Her mouth was open like a fledgling's about -to leave its nest for the first time. A deep sigh rose around her. As -though the earth where a copper bell, struck upon by a giant sviatogor -with all his strength, the people trembled, and laughing cried: - -"On your feet. Help her. Arise little one, on your feet. Help her." - -We caught the girl, lifted her and put her on her feet, holding her -lightly. She bent like an ear of corn in the wind, and cried out: - -"Oh, dear one, Lord; oh, Holy Virgin!" - -"Walk!" the people cried. "Walk!" - -I remember their dusty faces, tearful and sweaty. Through the damp -tears a miraculous strength shone out masterful, the faith in the power -to create miracles. - -The recovered girl walked quietly among us. Confidently she pressed her -revived body against the body of the people, and smiling and pale like -a flower, she said: - -"Let me go alone." - -She stopped, swayed, then walked. She walked as if on knives which -cut her feet, but she walked alone; fearful yet bold, like a little -child; and the people around her rejoiced and were friendly as to a -little child. She was excited. Her body trembled. She held her hands -out before her as if she were leaning against the air. She was filled -by the strength of the people and she was sustained from every side by -hundreds of luminous rays. - -I lost sight of her at the gates of the monastery, and recovering -myself, I gazed about me. Everywhere there was holiday tumult. There -was a ringing of bells and the powerful talk of the people. The evening -red fell brilliantly from the heavens and the lake clothed itself in -the purple of the reflection. A man walked past me, smiled and asked: - -"Did you see it?" - -I embraced him and kissed him, like a brother after a long separation, -and we found no words to say to each other. Smiling, we remained silent -and separated. - - * * * * * - -At night I sat in the wood above the lake. Again I was alone, but now -forever and inseparably united to the soul of the people, the masters -and miracle workers of the earth. I sat and listened to all that I had -seen and known grow and burn within me in one fire.--I, too, would -reflect to the world this light in which everything flamed with great -significance and was clothed with the miraculous. It winged my soul -with a desire to accept the world as it had accepted me. - -I have no words to describe the exultation of that night, when, alone -in the darkness, I embraced the whole earth with my love and stood on -the height of my experience and saw the world, like a fiery stream -of life-force, flowing turbidly to unite into one current, the end of -which I could not see. I joyfully understood that the inaccessibility -of the end was the source of the infinite growth of my soul and the -great earthly beauty. And in this infinity were the innumerable joys of -the live human soul. - -In the morning the sun appeared to me with a new face. I saw how its -rays cautiously and lovingly sank into the darkness and turned it -away; how it lifted from the earth the veils of night, and there she -stood before me in the beautiful and magnificent jewels of autumn; the -emerald field of the great play of peoples and the fight for free play -was the holy place in the procession of the celebration of beauty and -truth. - -I saw the earth, my mother, in space between the stars, and brightly -she gazed out with her ocean eyes into the distance and the depths. I -saw her like a full bowl of bright red, incessantly seething, human -blood, and I saw her master, the all-powerful, immortal people. - -They winged her life with a great activity and hope, and I prayed: - -"Thou art my God, the creator of all gods, which thou weavest out of -the beauty of thy soul and the labor and agony of thy seeking. - -"There shall be no God but thou, for thou art the one God, the creator -of miracles." - -This is what I believe and confess. - -And always do I return there where people free the souls of their -neighbors from the yoke of darkness and superstition and unite them -and disclose to them their own secret physiognomy, and aid them to -recognize the strength of their own wills and teach them the one and -true path to a general union for the sake of the great cause, the cause -of the universal creating of God. - -THE END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Confession, by Maxim Gorky - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONFESSION *** - -***** This file should be named 55828-8.txt or 55828-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/8/2/55828/ - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version,also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Confession - A Novel - -Author: Maxim Gorky - -Translator: Rose Strunsky - -Release Date: October 27, 2017 [EBook #55828] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONFESSION *** - - - - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version,also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... MOOC's, educational materials,...) -(Images generously made available by the Internet Archive.) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -</div> -<h1>THE CONFESSION</h1> - -<h4><i>A NOVEL</i></h4> - -<h4>BY</h4> - -<h2>MAXIM GORKY</h2> - -<h4>TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY</h4> - -<h4>ROSE STRUNSKY</h4> - -<h4>WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY THE TRANSLATOR</h4> - -<h5>NEW YORK</h5> - -<h5>FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY</h5> - -<h5>PUBLISHERS</h5> - -<h5>1916</h5> - - - -<hr class="full" /> -<h4>INTRODUCTION</h4> - - -<p>To me Gorky has never suffered from that change it has become so -fashionable for young Russia to mourn.</p> - -<p>"Since he has begun to give us doctrines, he has lost all his art," -they say and shake their heads, "We can get all the doctrines we -want from the platform of the Social Democratic party or from the -theorists of the Social Revolutionaries—why go to Gorky? Or if it is -a philosophy of life that we seek, have we not always Tolstoi, who is -greater, truer and has more consummate art? Why does he not write again -a <i>Foma Gordyeeff</i>, or an <i>Orloff and His Wife</i>, or a <i>Konovaloff</i>!"</p> - -<p>I re-read <i>Foma Gordyeeff, Orloff and His Wife, Konovaloff</i> and so on, -and read also <i>Mother, The Spy, In Prison</i>, and the little fables with -a purpose so sadly decried, and I see nothing there but the old Gorky -writing as usual from the by-ways of life as he passes along on the -road. The road has lengthened and widened in the twenty-five years of -his wandering, that is all. Russia has changed and grown and passed -through deepstirring experiences from the year 1890, when Gorky first -published his immortal story of <i>Makar Chudra</i>, to her present moment -of titanic struggle in the World War—the beginning of the year 1916.</p> - -<p>Russia's changes were Gorky's changes. He first flung his type of hero, -the people from the lowest of the low—water-rats, tramps, petty -thieves—into a discouraged, disappointed and hopeless Russia. It was -a Russia that had almost decided that there were no more people, that -they were without courage, that the misery and degradation in which -they lived was there because of their own inefficiency, their lack of -idealism, their incapacity to grasp an idea and to strike and fight for -it.</p> - -<p>The Russia that thought this and the Russia that Gorky awakened from -its torpor by introducing to it again the people it had almost learned -to scorn, showing them with a capacity of understanding ideas, with -deep emotions and great courage, was the Russia that had settled back -in bitter disappointment after the sad failure of the Revolutionary -movement of the eighties.</p> - -<p>Like an eddying pool, the generations in Russia have risen to the -surface, made their protest against the anachronism of autocracy and -despotism, and then subsided back again into the still and inert -waters of the nation. But each rising generation has made a wider and -wider eddy, coming ever from a greater depth. Thus in 1825 it was -merely a small group of military officers, who having learned from the -Napoleonic campaigns that there were such things as constitutional law -and order, that liberty and freedom were truths to fight for, broke out -in revolt in Petrograd in December of that year only to be immediately -crushed. Five of the leaders were hanged, and the rest, intellectuals -and writers among them, were sent to Siberia.</p> - -<p>The loss of the élite of Russia, despite the names of Pushkin and -Lermontoff which graced that period, made great inroads in the -intellectual life of the country. But in the fifties and sixties the -seeming quiet was broken into by a new restlessness. This time the -student youth, the young sons and daughters of the landlords and the -nobles, became inspired by a passion for learning, for new conceptions -of education, for new liberties of the people, for the abolition of -serfdom and for a Pan-Slavism that would be democratic. It was then -that the women left their homes to seek higher education and to enter -new fields of work. They had to break with family tyranny which was -fostered by tradition and the State, their men comrades standing -valiantly by, helping them to make escapes, going through the forms of -mock marriage, and conducting them safely to that Mecca of learning for -the Russian youth—the medical school of Geneva. It was in this way -that Sonya Kovalevsky, who later became the famous mathematician in the -University of Stockholm, made her escape into the world, and the untold -other heroines of Russia who were soon to return educated, free, and -fired with a zeal to spread their new-found freedom to the people.</p> - -<p>The abolition of serfdom in '61 brought with it great discontent, for -the peasants had been led to believe that they would be liberated -together with the land, since Russian serfdom, unlike the Western, -was based on the theory that the peasant was attached to the land and -that the landlord's hold on it came through his ownership of the serf. -Consequently it was argued, when the Russian serf was liberated and -the ancient communal village form maintained, that all the land the -serfs had owned would go to them. Of course, that was very far from -what really happened. It is true that the serfs were liberated and the -ancient communal form kept, but the land allotted to the village was -poor and meager, the plots were scattered, and the tax on them for -repayment to the landlords was so great that it took over fifty years -to pay.</p> - -<p>The peasants foresaw exactly the future that awaited them; the dearth -in land, none too much to begin with, and the consequential lessening -at each redistribution as the village increased in "souls," the needed -"renting" from the landlord at exorbitant rates, the inability to -pay and the resultant "paying in his own labor," and the eventual -reestablishment of a virtual serfdom. Insurrections took place all -over the country, the peasants believing firmly that the Government -had treated them more kindly but that the landlords were deceiving -them. However, the Government came only too gladly to the aid of the -landlords, having got used to blood-baths in its drastic quenching of -the Polish insurrection of '63.</p> - -<p>The general disappointment among the youth in the Government's attitude -towards both Polish liberty and peasant rights led to a stronger and -more revolutionary stand on their part. Unlike the reaction that set -in during the long and tyrannical reign of Nicholas I, after the -outburst of the Decembrists, or the reaction that was to follow those -thirty years of effort when the notes of Gorky were to sound like a -clarion call to a renewed faith, the decade of the seventies rose -to one of extreme and intense idealism. The generation which had -gone out of Russia to gain for itself new liberties had now returned -and was spread throughout the length and breadth of the vast land, -making converts by the thousands where formerly there were but few. -The "fathers" and "sons" though not understanding each other very -fully, were nevertheless following a pretty equal tendency. Where the -former had sought for new general liberties in politics and social -life through education, the latter, feeling that a great deal had -already been won, had decided upon propaganda of action. The movement -changed from a freeing of one's self to a freeing of the people. "To -the people" became the watchword of the hour. The youth of the better -classes went to live among the peasants, taught them, organized them -into secret revolutionary groups for "land and liberty," made several -abortive attempts at peasant revolution, and finally, the Government -growing more and more reactionary, ended in the wielding of a personal -"terror" against the Government representatives, which culminated in -the assassination of the Czar, Alexander II, in 1882.</p> - -<p>The reprisals that set in, the wholesale exiling of the youth to -Siberia, the internment for life in the fortresses of Peter and Paul -and in Schlüsselberg for participation in the Party of the Will of the -People, and the general opinion that however reactionary Alexander -II was he was still much more ready for reforms than his successor -Alexander III, gave rise to a fundamental disillusionment. The -sacrifices of the youth had been too much. They had led themselves -to be hanged and tortured only to bring in an era of still greater -darkness. The people were not ready for reforms, they did not wish -them. They would not have understood what to do with liberties could -they have had them. There was nothing to do but sit back on one's -estate, exploit the peasants as did the grandfathers and say, "We are -powerless and the peasants unworthy."</p> - -<p>This period was the more painful because it came fast upon one which -was full of idealism and hope. The men who lived on in inertia, -drinking tea and discussing vacuously the futility of life, had known -a time when they had hoped and thought and planned otherwise. They had -almost cynically to repudiate their former selves.</p> - -<p>The writer who brought out most acutely the great anguish of this -period was Anton Chekhov. He is now being recognized as the greatest -artist of his time, who followed naturally the trend of the years he -lived in. His humor, at first gentle and sorrowful, became later coarse -and gross as the darkness around him deepened. His characters are -inert, some eaten up by unfulfilled desires, others incapable even of -recalling the faint echo of a former hope. A "Chekhov Sorrow" became a -well-known definite phrase in Russian life.</p> - -<p>It was before this Russia that Gorky made his appearance. Himself one -of the people, he showed them again the face of the people. It had -beauty and courage, it had qualities of strength long since forgotten. -The effect was electrical. Gorky was hailed as one upon whom the cloak -of Tolstoi was to fall, for better than Tolstoi, he did not appear as -a leader of the people, but as one who disclosed the people <i>en masse</i>.</p> - -<p>Gorky's appearance in the cultured and literary world of Russia -suffering from the "Chekhov Sorrow" has an analogy in my mind to the -sudden appearance of Peter Karpovitch in the fortress of Schlüsselberg. -There sat the men and women for almost twenty years, cut off from all -outside communication, wondering when and how their work would be -carried on. One by one they had died off and only a handful remained -to question if the youth would ever awake to strong purposes again. -Then suddenly, in the year 1902, the big gates opened, and the student -Peter Karpovitch entered. Without connection with any revolutionary -group, by an instinctive feeling of the pulse of the time, he made -his strike against the increasing reaction, shooting the Minister of -Education, Bogolyepov, in February, 1901, for the wholesale exiling of -the students into the military on the lines employed by Nicholas I.</p> - -<p>This advance guard of the Russian Revolution was tall and handsome, -with the traditional heroic, figure of the Little Russian. He came -to the men of the past in all his strength and beauty as a symbol of -the new era. Upon his footsteps followed fast Bolmashev, the executor -of Sipiagin, who this time committed his act under the direction of -an organized group, the Social Revolutionaries. In two years Russia -was aflame. The Governor General of Finland, Bobrikoff, was shot in -June, 1904. This was followed in a few weeks by the assassination of -Von Plehve and the Grand Duke Sergei, by general labor strikes, by -the demonstration in Petrograd in front of the Winter Palace which -led to the terrible massacre of Bloody Sunday on January 22, 1905, -by the mutinies in the Black Sea fleet and in Kronstadt, and by the -nation-wide general strike in every branch of industry and life in -October, 1905. Finally a Constitution and the Duma were granted to the -people. The herald of the new order to the old was the tall handsome -youth whose strange footsteps were heard suddenly and unexpectedly one -March morning treading the hitherto silent corridors of the fortress.</p> - -<p>Thus, as Karpovitch to the prisoners in Schlüsselberg, came Gorky to -Russia at large.</p> - -<p>He was marvelously fitted to dispel the disappointment that was -felt about the people. Himself one of the people, he had merely to -disclose himself to prove again their courage and nobility. The life -of Gorky has been particularly tragic and particularly Russian. He -was born in a dyer's shop in Nizhni-Novgorad in 1869. His real name -is Alexei Maximovich Peshkov, and it is significant that when he came -to write he signed himself "Maxim Gorky"—"Maxim, the Bitter." His -father died when he was four and he was totally orphaned at seven. -His childhood was spent in the care of his maternal grandfather, who -was extremely religious and a miser. The foundation of the bitterness -he was to feel was thus laid early, for the life of the lonely child -with the harsh, unsympathetic old man, can be well imagined, though -the peculiarly Russian setting can be had only by reading his recent -book, <i>My Childhood</i>. At the death of his mother he was apprenticed to -a shoemaker, and at eleven he decided that he had had enough of home -ties and left Nizhni-Novgorad for good. He started tramping and after -various vicissitudes found himself a helper to a cook on one of the -Volga boats. This man had been at one time a noncommissioned officer -and he carried his past culture with him in the form of a trunk full -of books. It was a queer assortment, from Gogol to school manuals and -popular novels, and Gorky dipped liberally into it. The result was -that a craving for real learning arose in him, which would have come -no doubt to the imaginative youth at this age even without the aid -of that haphazard library. He left the Volga steamer and tramped to -the University of Kazan, thinking that learning would be free to any -one who wished it. He was bitterly disappointed, for the University -demanded fees, and so instead of registering as a student he was forced -to take a job as a bakery helper. This work he did for two years and it -seems to have made a deep impression upon him, for there is scarcely a -story of his where the hero does not spend two years baking bread in -some filthy cellar among flour dust and general filth.</p> - -<p>He left the bakeshop to wander with those tramps and "ex-men" whose -poet he was later to be. The life held suffering which ate deep into -the vitals of his being—hunger, privations, nights with the police -for vagabondage; and finally so great became this conflict between the -beauty and goodness for which his nature craved and the constant evil -around him, that in 1889 at the age of twenty-one he sent a bullet -through his chest. Like many of the Russian youth, whose passionate -natures make impossible the compromise between their inherent idealism -and the sordidness and brutality of actual existence, he had decided -to be done with the mockery. Fortunately the bullet did not kill and -he took up his life of vagabondage again. In 1892 he is once more in -Nizhni-Novgorad, actually holding the respectable post of a lawyer's -clerk. The lawyer, a man called Lanin, seems to have taken a great -interest in the intelligent young man who discussed "cursed" questions -and had a "live and energetic soul." He threw opportunities for study -in his way, but Gorky's free and untamed youth, coupled with the taste -of the "mother earth" he grew to love so, made it impossible for -him to lead the well-ordered life of a professional clerk, and in a -city, at that. He left Lanin, for he did not "feel at home with these -intelligent people," he said, and tramped to the Caucasus, making -a detour on the way from the Volga, through the Don district, into -Bessarabia and Southern Crimea.</p> - -<p>Coming to the Caucasus he found work in a railroad yard in Tiflis. His -mind had already begun to digest the types of those tramps, Tartars -and gipsies he met in his wanderings, for as early as 1890 his first -story <i>Makar Chudra</i> made its appearance in the little paper <i>Kafhas</i> -in Tiflis. It is a story of two thieves, written with great simplicity -and naturalness. There is no doubt that Gorky had met them and had been -true to the incidents related. It showed them strong, sensitive as -women, with a subtle capacity of understanding each other's emotions. -In a typically Russian scene, one thief unburdens his heart to the -other, telling him how he had wanted to kill him and how he had nearly -done so. The other listens, sympathetic, understanding fully how that -state of mind came to him, and they part in great tenderness! These -are no weaklings, they are personalities held by iron chains in a -Greek fatalism, and the fatality is life—Russian life. Gorky had not -yet come to the point where he could lay his hand on the social enemy -and say "here it is." He saw only a great misery and natures torn in -anguish, but not ruined as the generation before had supposed. Though -this story itself, appearing, as it did, in a provincial paper, made -no immediate name for him, his later stories, in which both canvas and -treatment are exactly the same, brought him recognition forthwith.</p> - -<p>Gorky left Tiflis and wandered back to the Volga and there, by -happy chance, met the Little Russian writer, Korolenko, the author -of <i>Makar's Dream</i> and <i>The Blind Musician</i>. As editor of <i>The -Contemporary</i>, Korolenko introduced him to "great" literature, as he -put it, and in a flash he was made known to all of Russia. He continued -writing in the same vein he introduced in <i>Makar Chudra</i>, using the -strong, outcast, rebel types in <i>Emilian Pibgai</i> and <i>Chalkash</i>, -which were published in 1895 under Korolenko's editorship, and in -<i>Konovaloff,</i> <i>Malva</i>, <i>Foma Gordyeeff</i> his first long novel, and in -the innumerable other works which preceded the supposed "change" in -Gorky's manner. He showed his heroes to Russia as one shows a scene by -pulling back a curtain: "this is what exists; here are men who do not -conform to your laws, not because you have made outcasts of them, but -because they despise you and all your smug respectability."</p> - -<p>But he did not say so in so many words, he merely showed this canvas. -The change in Gorky is the change in Russia, which grew from a silent -and brooding mood to one of talk and action. As the Russian people -became more self-conscious so did he, changing from a man torn hither -and thither by circumstances to one who was able to analyze life and -know cause and effect. His very sudden success so early in his life -made it impossible for him to keep on writing and re-writing the same -themes in the same manner as he had begun. He was too great and dynamic -a genius for that. To him as to most Russians the art itself is not the -thing, but the self-expression and the truth. Thus when Gorky swung -out from the life of tramps and wanderers into the intellectual life -of Russia, he found a nation organized into various groups, analyzing -the cause of Russian social and political misery, finding an economic -and materialistic reason for it, and setting about to remedy it. Gorky -joined one of these groups, the Social Democratic Party, was one of -the signers of the petition to the Czar which demanded with an amusing -Russian naïveté that the Czar grant not only economic justice to the -strikers in the steel works of Petrograd, but also a constitutional -assembly, universal suffrage, a direct and secret ballot, and free -speech, free press and freedom of religion! For these demands and the -subsequent demonstration in front of the Winter Palace which resulted -in the notorious massacre of Bloody Sunday, Gorky was imprisoned in the -fortress of Peter and Paul. His prominence and the fact that he was -subject to tuberculosis caused a universal demand for his release. He -was freed after a month and was allowed to stay in Finland and even in -Petrograd for a while during the so-called days of freedom.</p> - -<p>By this time Gorky had thrown himself entirely into the cause of the -Majority Faction of the Social Democratic Party, an organization not -strictly Marxian, in the sense that they did not wait for an economic -development to bring about the cooperative commonwealth but believed -that by mass action and general strike Russia could bring about a -revolution on socialistic lines without the necessity of intermediary -steps. In 1905 he left Russia and came to America, hoping to collect -money for the Revolutionary cause, but his work failed entirely because -of the fact that the charming and brilliant lady who came with him -to America and registered as his wife was not legally so. The men of -prominence, Mark Twain among them, who formed committees to help raise -the funds, resigned, and Gorky's plans failed entirely. Not only was -no money for the "cause" raised, but he was received nowhere, the very -hotel he stayed in asking him to leave at midnight. It was supposed -that agents of the Russian Government, fearing Gorky's too great -success in America, sprung the trap and thus discredited him. At any -rate, Gorky naturally left the shores of America in great disgust, and -the dark days of Russian reaction having already set in, went to live -in practical exile on the island of Capri, in Italy. Leonid Andreyeff, -the Russian writer, and many revolutionary refugees generally stayed -with him. It was from Capri that the longer novels, <i>The Spy</i> and -this work, <i>The Confession</i>, were written. He was by this time living -entirely in the cultured world, thinking earnestly and scientifically -to the best of his ability about the political and social conditions -around him.</p> - -<p>The great light, the great inspiring motive power of the Russian has -ever been the people. The only ray of happiness in the works of Gorky -is the joy that comes to his characters when they begin to work for the -people. Life is depressing, life is a quagmire, a bog wherein great -and noble souls are forced to wallow, when suddenly light appears. It -is in the organization for the creation of a better life. One feels -just for one little instant the happiness that life can bring when -this vision of the new order appears. In the novel called <i>Three of -Them</i>, the pages lighten with relief when the little Social Democratic -agitator appears, giving hope and courage, but she is swept out of the -life of the unhappy men that fill the pages of that book as suddenly as -she appeared and there is nothing for the hero to do but throw himself -under a passing train and die for disappointment and impotence.</p> - -<p>This was in the beginning when he himself first saw the meaning of the -"Cause," before it had become fully part of his life. Later his works -changed their scene, following the exact manner in which the Russian -people themselves changed their mental attitude. The background of the -same Russian people, the same giants with the same courage and the -same ability, was no longer a quagmire, but a battlefield. They were -struggling to win their rights. Interwoven in the pages of his later -work rises the new Russia of the last decade, the self-conscious, -fighting Russia. In <i>The Spy</i>, which was written in 1908, we see the -Russian not yet come into his own, still living in ignorance and -disorder, but his activity is different. He is in a fight. The same -change is in <i>Mother</i> and in the work <i>In Prison</i>. A new pæan is -sung, it is the song of the people marching <i>en masse</i>. Perhaps Walt -Whitman came the nearest to this same feeling of democracy, but unlike -Whitman it is not of the people that Gorky sings, but it is the people -themselves that are the song-makers. They are the "creators." "In them -dwells God."</p> - -<p>The Russian who finds Gorky's later works too doctrinaire, too -purposeful, never quarrels with him because he finds his theme at fault -or the conclusions wrong, but because he thinks his art has failed. -They say they have revised their opinion that Gorky would mean to them -what Tolstoi has meant, for they still consider the latter to be more -universal and truer philosopher and artist. They find it inartistic -for Gorky to talk to them of what they already know. They want to hear -again about the strange and beautiful types they did not know of before -and to read again his beautiful lines with their exquisite descriptions -of nature, which they consider unsurpassed by the greatest. However, -to me Gorky's aestheticism is too one-sided. It is the aestheticism -of the primitive whom only the grandiose impresses. The soft, subtle -shadings leave him untouched. There is no doubt that he loves -passionately his "mother earth" with the vast, undulating steppes, the -tall mountains of the Caucasus, the great dome of the sky, and the -living sweep of the sea. His descriptions of these scenes glow as does -a Western writer over the charms of his beloved, but we miss the charms -of the beloved.</p> - -<p>In reading Russian literature, it must always be remembered that one -is reading of a people whose civilization is intrinsically different -from that of the West. It is the difference between action and -passivity. Professor Milvoukoff would have us believe that it is the -autocratic form of government which has made the Russian live so long -in inactivity, that both his reasoning powers and imaginative faculties -have developed far in excess of the rest of Europe's. It is true that -the Russian is never afraid to go to the end of a thought, to fight -for freedom far in excess of that already attained in the Western -world, and to ask continually the fundamental questions of "Why," and -"Wherefore," and "Where am I going," and "Where does this lead me to?" -The knife of Russian literature discloses as surely a cross-section -of Russian civilization as does that of Guy de Maupassant, Flaubert, -Zola and other realists of the French school disclose the French. And -yet this cross-section of Russian civilization is difficult to grasp -without a more intimate knowledge of both the history and the people. -It is difficult for me now to remember my conceptions of Russian life -as I got them from the Russian writers before my visit to Russia ten -years ago. America, California, all the activities of our Western life -made the characters and problems in Turgeneff, Dostoyeffsky and Gogol -seem vague and unreal, made them move about in a nebulous society where -one asked embarrassing personal questions and were always answered with -a truth that had rudeness in it.</p> - -<p>I had a coward's entry into Russia. There were rumors of riots and -disorders, for it was in the year of general strikes and barricades, -and as the train moved farther into the interior, the guards who -shoveled the snow off the track seemed to me soldiers under arms, -standing there to protect us from some infuriated mob. My heart beat -with fear at that great and uncouth stranger to me, the Russian -people. But as my stay in Russia was prolonged, my kinship with the -people grew. The common man appeared to me as a gentle protector and -friend. The drivers of the droshkies, the peasants, the workingmen, the -conductors on the trains, all became kindly elder brothers, who set -one on one's right path or made a friendly remark as one passed along. -Every one talked to every one, and although the great interest of the -time was the Duma and the political situation, there lurked always a -personal understanding and a personal relation behind each discussion. -All classes had this attitude, and though the educated had more facts -at their resources, for they knew history and the outside world, they -had the same outlook and the same manner as the others. I became so -much at one with the people around me, that when I left Russia eighteen -months later, I felt this time fearful at going away, as if now truly -I were going from home into a strange land. As the train came into the -Western world, as I found myself in Poland and out again into Austria, -I was again alone, a solitary and detached individual who was to stand -on guard against the ill-turn which would be given me if I were not -watchful. Outside of Russia, the people, "the God-creators," as Gorky -calls them, fell apart into millions of various atoms, each struggling -for his own life. It was in Russia that I left them still unspoiled, -unadventitious, united in a great simplicity of faith and love. It is -therefore that the last chapter of this book is distinct and real to -me, and I can almost see with my own eyes that vast, surging procession -of the people, showing their loving strength and giving of their -strength to the weak.</p> - -<p>To-day, when all ideals and hopes have gone smash in the hurly-burly of -this World War, Gorky has taken his side with his country and is again -living in Russia. In the interim, before he can pick up the gauntlet -to fight on for a new and better order, he has gone back to his former -theme, writing as before of the tramps and "ex-men" and gipsies he knew -in his youth, and Russia is pleased with him once more.</p> - -<p style="text-align: right; font-size: 0.8em;">ROSE STRUNSKY.</p> - -<p>New York, February, 1916.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h3>THE CONFESSION</h3> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h4> - - -<p>Let me tell you my life; it won't take much of your time—you ought to -know it.</p> - -<p>I am a weed, a foundling, an illegitimate being. It isn't known to -whom I was born, but I was abandoned on the estate of Mr. Loseff in -the village of Sokal, in the district of Krasnoglinsk. My mother left -me—or perhaps it was some one else—in the landlord's park, on the -steps of the little shrine under which the old landlady Loseff lay -buried and where I was found by Danil Vialoff, the gardener. He was -walking in the park early in the morning, when he saw a child wrapped -in rags lie moving on the steps, of the shrine. A smoke-colored cat was -walking stealthfully around it.</p> - -<p>I lived with Danil until I was four years old, but as he himself had a -large family, I fed myself wherever I happened to be, and when I found -nothing I whined and whined, then fell asleep hungry.</p> - -<p>When I was four I was taken by the sexton Larion, a very strange and -lonely man; he took me because of his loneliness. He was short of -stature, round like a toy balloon and had a round face. His hair was -red, his voice thin like a woman's, and his heart was also like a -woman's, gentle to everybody. He liked to drink wine and drank much of -it; when sober he was silent, his eyes always half-closed, and he had -an air of being guilty before all, but when drunk, he sang psalms and -hymns in a loud voice, held his head high and smiled at every one.</p> - -<p>He remained apart from people, living in poverty, for he had given -away his share to the priest, while he himself fished both summer and -winter. And for fun he caught singing birds, teaching me to do the -same. He loved birds and they were not afraid of him; it is touching -to recall how even the most timid of little birds would run over his -red head and get mixed up in his fiery hair. Or the bird would settle -on his shoulder and look into his mouth, bending its wise little head -to the side. Then again Larion would lie on a bench and sprinkle -hempseed in his head and beard, and canaries, goldfinches, tomtits -and bullfinches would collect around him, hunting through his hair, -creeping over his cheeks, picking his ears, settling on his nose while -he lay there roaring with laughter, squinting his eyes and conversing -tenderly with them. I envied him for this—of me, the birds were afraid.</p> - -<p>Larion was a man of tender soul and all animals recognized it; I can't -say the same for men, though I don't mean to blame them for I know man -isn't fed by caresses.</p> - -<p>It used to be rather difficult for him in winter; he had no wood and -he had nothing to buy it with, having drunk up the money. His little -hut was as cold as a cellar, except that the birds chirped and sang, -and the two of us would lie on the cold stove, wrapped in everything -possible, listening to the singing of the birds. Larion would whistle -to them—he could whistle well—looking like a grossbeak, with his -large nose, his hooked bill and his red head. Often he would say to -me: "Well, listen, Motka" (I was baptized Matvei). "Listen!"</p> - -<p>He would lie on his back, his hands under his head, squinting his eyes -and singing something from the funeral Liturgy in his thin voice. The -birds would then become quiet, stopping to listen, then they themselves -would begin to sing one after the other. Larion would try to sing -louder than they and they would exert themselves, especially the -canaries and goldfinches, or the thrushes and starlings. He would often -sing himself up to such a point that the tears from his eyes would -trickle from out his lids, wetting his cheeks and washing his face gray.</p> - -<p>This singing sometimes frightened me, and once I said to him in a -whisper:</p> - -<p>"Uncle, why do you always sing about death?" He stopped, looked at me -and said, smiling,</p> - -<p>"Don't get frightened, silly. It doesn't matter if it is about death; -it is pretty. Of the whole church service the funeral mass is the most -beautiful. It offers tenderness to man and pity for him. Among us, no -one has pity except for the dead." These words I remember very well, as -I do all his words, but of course at that time I could not understand -them. The things of childhood are only understood on the eve of old -age, for these are the wisest years of man.</p> - -<p>I remember also that I asked him once, "Why does God help man so -little?"</p> - -<p>"It's none of His business," he explained to me. "Help yourself, -that's why reason was given to you. God is here so that it won't be so -terrible to die, but just how to live, that is your affair."</p> - -<p>I soon forgot these words of his, and recalled them too late, and that -is why I have suffered much vain sorrow.</p> - -<p>He was a remarkable man! When angling most people never shout and never -speak so as not to frighten the fish, but Larion sang unceasingly, or -recounted the lives of the saints to me, or spoke to me about God, and -yet the fish always flocked to him. Birds must also be caught with -care, but he whistled all the time, teased them and talked to them and -it never mattered—the birds walked into his traps and nets. The same -thing as to bees; when setting a hive or doing anything else, which old -bee-keepers do with prayers, and even then don't always succeed, the -sexton, when called for the job, would strike the bees, crush them, -swear profanely, and yet everything went in the best way possible. -He didn't like bees—they blinded a daughter of his once. She found -herself in a bee-hive—she was only three at the time—and a bee stung -her eye. This eye grew diseased, and then blind, and soon the other -eye followed. Later the little girl died from headache, and her mother -became insane.</p> - -<p>Yes, he never did anything the way other people did, and he was as -tender to me as if he were my own mother. They did not treat me with -much mercy in the village. Life was hard, and I was a stranger, and a -superfluous one.... Suddenly and illegally to be eating the morsel that -belonged to some one else!</p> - -<p>Larion taught me the church service, and I became his helper and sang -with him in the choir, lit the censer, and did all that was needed. I -helped the watchman Vlassi keep order in the church and I liked doing -all this, especially in winter. The church was of brick, they heated it -well, and it was warm inside it.</p> - -<p>I liked vespers better than morning mass. In the evening the people -were purified by work and were freed of their worries, and they stood -quietly and majestically, and their souls shone like wax candles with -little flames. It was plain then, that though people had different -faces their misery was the same.</p> - -<p>Larion liked the church service; he would close his eyes, throw back -his red head, stick out his Adam's apple and burst forth into song, -losing himself so that he would even start off on some uncalled for -hymn and the priest would make signs to him from the altar: "Where is -it taking you?" He also read beautifully. His voice was singsong and -sonorous, and had tenderness in it, and emotion and joy. The priest did -not like him, nor did he like the priest. More than once he said to me:</p> - -<p>"That, a priest! He is no priest, he is a drum upon whom need and -force of habit beat their sticks. If I were a priest, I would read the -service in such a way that not only would I make the people cry, but -even the holy images!"</p> - -<p>It was true—the priest did not suit his post. He was short-nosed and -dark as if he had been singed by gun-powder. His mouth was large and -toothless, his beard straggly, his hair thin and bald on top, his -arms long. He had a hoarse voice and he panted as if carrying a load -that was too much for his strength. He was greedy and always in a bad -humor—for his family was large and the village was poor, the land of -the peasants bad and there was no business.</p> - -<p>In summer, even when the mosquitoes were thick, Larion and I spent our -days and our nights in the woods to hunt for birds or on the river to -catch fish. It happened that he would be needed unexpectedly for some -religious ceremony and he would not be there, nor would any one know -where to find him. All the little boys in the village would scatter -to hunt for him, running like hares and crying, "Sexton! Larion! Come -home!" He would hardly ever be found. The priest would scold and -threaten to complain, and the peasants would laugh.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h4> - - -<p>Larion had a friend, Savelko Migun, a notorious thief, and a habitual -drunkard. He was beaten more than once for his thieving and even sat in -jail for it, but for all that he was a remarkable person. He sang songs -and told stories in such a way that it is impossible to remember them -without wonder.</p> - -<p>I heard him many times, and now he stands before me as if alive; he was -dry, lively, had a sparse beard, was all in tatters; with a small phiz -and a wedge-shaped, large forehead underneath which often twinkled his -thievish, merry eyes like two dark stars.</p> - -<p>Often he would bring a bottle of vodka, or Larion would insist on -buying one, and they would sit opposite each other at the table, -Savelko saying:</p> - -<p>"Well, sexton, roll out the litany."</p> - -<p>Then they drank ... Larion, a bit abashed, would nevertheless begin to -sing, and Savelko sat as if glued to the spot, trembling, his little -beard twitching, his eyes full of tears, smoothing his forehead with -his hand and smiling or wiping the tears from his cheek with his -fingers.</p> - -<p>Then he would bounce up like a ball, crying:</p> - -<p>"Most superb, Laria! Well, I envy the Lord God—beautiful songs are -made for Him! But for man, Laria? What's man anyway, no matter how good -he be or how rich his soul? It isn't hard for him to go before the -Lord. But He, what does He do? Thou givest me nothing, Lord, and I give -Thee my whole soul!"</p> - -<p>"Don't blaspheme!" Larion would say.</p> - -<p>"I blaspheme?" Savelko would cry; "I never even thought of such a -thing! How am I blaspheming? In no way at all! I am rejoicing for the -Lord, that's all. And now I am going to sing you something."</p> - -<p>He would stand up, stretch out his arm, and begin to chant. He sang -quietly and mysteriously, opening his eyes wide and moving his dry -finger continually on his outstretched arm, as if it were hunting for -something in space. Larion would lean up against the wall, rest his -hands on the bench, and look on in open-mouthed wonder. I lay on the -stove with my heart melting within me with sweet sadness. Savelko would -grow black before me, only his little white teeth would glisten and his -dry tongue would move like a serpent's while the sweat would rise on -his forehead in thick drops. His voice seemed endless, and it flowed -out and shone like a stream in a meadow. He would finish, stagger a -bit, wipe his face with the back of his hand, then both would take a -drink and remain silent a long time. Later Savelko would ask—</p> - -<p>"And now Laria, 'The Ocean Waves.'"</p> - -<p>And in this way they cheered each other up all evening as long as they -were not yet drunk. When that happened, Migun began to tell obscene -stories about priests, landlords, and kings, and my sexton would laugh -and I with them. Savelko without tiring produced one story after -another, and each one so funny that he almost choked with laughter.</p> - -<p>But best of all he sang on holidays in the wineshop. He stood up in -front of the people, frowning hard so that the wrinkles lay deep on his -temples. To look at him, one would think the songs came to his bosom -from the earth itself and that the earth showed him the words and gave -strength to his voice. Around him stood or sat the peasants, some with -heads bowed chewing a piece of straw, others staring into Savelko's -mouth, and all were radiant, while the women even wept as they listened.</p> - -<p>When he finished they said:</p> - -<p>"Give us another, brother."</p> - -<p>And they brought him drinks.</p> - -<p>The following story was told about Migun. He stole something in the -village, and the peasants caught him. When they caught him, they said:</p> - -<p>"Well, that finishes you! Now we are going to hang you, we can't stand -you any longer."</p> - -<p>And he, the story goes, answered:</p> - -<p>"Drop it, peasants, that's a nasty job you've begun. You have already -taken from me the things I've stolen, so that you have lost nothing. -Anyway, you can always get new things, but where will you get such a -fellow as I? Who will cheer you up when I'm gone?"</p> - -<p>"All right," they said, "talk on."</p> - -<p>They took him to the wood to hang him and he began to sing on the way. -When they first started out, they walked fast, then they slowed up. -When they came to the wood, though the rope was ready, they waited, -until he should finish his last song. Then they said to one another:</p> - -<p>"Let him sing another song. It will do for his Last Communion."</p> - -<p>He sang another and then another, and then the sun rose. The men looked -about them; a clear day was rising from the east. Migun stood smiling -among them awaiting his death without fear. The peasants became abashed.</p> - -<p>"Well, fellows, let him go to the devil," they said. "If we hang him, -we might have all kinds of sins and troubles on our heads for it."</p> - -<p>And they decided not to touch Migun.</p> - -<p>"We bow to the ground before you for your talent," they said, "but for -your thieving we ought to beat you up, all the same."</p> - -<p>They gave him a light beating, and then they all went back in a body -with him.</p> - -<p>All this might have been made up, but it speaks well for human beings, -and puts Savelko in a good light. And then think of this: if people can -make up such good stories, it follows they are not so bad, and in this -lies the whole point.</p> - -<p>Not only did they sing songs together, but Savelko and Larion carried -on long conversations with each other—often about the devil. They did -not give him much honor.</p> - -<p>Once I remember the sexton saying:</p> - -<p>"The devil is the image of your own wickedness, the reflection of your -own dark soul."</p> - -<p>"That means, he is my own foolishness?" Savelko asked.</p> - -<p>"Just that and nothing else."</p> - -<p>"It must be so," Migun said, laughing. "For were he alive, he would -have snatched me up long ago!"</p> - -<p>Larion didn't believe in devils at all. I remember him discussing in -the barn with the Dissenters and he shouting:</p> - -<p>"It is not devilish, but brutish! Good and evil are in man. When you -want goodness, goodness is there; <i>if</i> you want evil, evil is there, -from you and for you. God does not force you by His Will either to good -or evil. He created you free-willed, and you are free to do both good -and evil. Your devil is misery and darkness! Good is really something -human, because it springs from God, while your evil doesn't come from -the devil, but from the brute in you."</p> - -<p>They shouted at him:</p> - -<p>"Red-haired heretic!"</p> - -<p>But he kept on.</p> - -<p>"That's why," he said, "the devil is painted with horns and feet like -a goat's, because he is the brute element in man."</p> - -<p>Best of all Larion spoke about Christ. I always wept when I pictured -the bitter fate that befell the Holy Son of God. His whole life stood -before me, from the discussion in the Temple with the wise men, to -Golgotha, and He was like a pure and beautiful child in His ineffable -love for the people, with a kind smile for all and a tender word of -consolation—always like a child, dazzling in His beauty.</p> - -<p>"Even with the wise men of the Temple," Larion said, "Christ conversed -like a child, that is why in his simple wisdom He appeared greater than -they. You, Motka, remember this, and try to conserve the child-like -throughout your whole life, for in it lies truth."</p> - -<p>I would ask him:</p> - -<p>"Will Christ come again soon?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, soon," he would say, "soon, for it is said that people are again -looking for Him."</p> - -<p>As Larion's words now come back to me, it seems to me that he saw -God as the great Creator of the most beautiful things, and man as an -incompetent being, who was lost on the by-ways of the world. And he -pitied this talentless heir to the great riches left to him on this -earth by God.</p> - -<p>Both he and Savelko had one faith. I remember that an ikon appeared -miraculously in our village. Once, very early on an autumn morning a -woman came to the well for water, when suddenly she saw something -glow in the darkness at the bottom of the well. She called the people -together. The village elder appeared, the priest came, and Larion ran -up. They let a man down into the well and he brought up the ikon of the -"unburnt bush." They performed mass right on the spot and then they -decided to put up a shrine above the well, the priest crying:</p> - -<p>"Orthodox, give your offerings."</p> - -<p>The village elder lent his authority and gave three rubles himself. The -peasants untied their purses and the women earnestly brought pieces of -linen and grain of all sorts. There was rejoicing in the village and I, -too, was happy, as on the day of Christ's holy Resurrection.</p> - -<p>But even during mass I noticed that Larion's face looked sad. He -glanced at no one, and Savelko ran about like a mouse through the -crowd and giggled. At night I went to look at the apparition. It stood -above the well, giving forth an azure glow like a vapor, as if some -one unseen was breathing on it tenderly, warming it with his light and -heat; it gave me anguish and pleasure.</p> - -<p>When I came home I heard Larion say sadly,</p> - -<p>"There is no such Holy Virgin."</p> - -<p>And Savelko drawled out the following, laughing:</p> - -<p>"I know, Moses lived long before Christ. Why! the scoundrels! A -miracle, what? Oh, but you peasants are queer!"</p> - -<p>"For this the elder and the priest ought to go to jail," Larion said -in a very low voice. "Let them not kill the God in man just to slack -their own greed."</p> - -<p>I felt uneasy at this conversation and I asked from the stove:</p> - -<p>"What are you talking about, Uncle Larion?"</p> - -<p>They were silent, then they whispered to each other; evidently they -were disturbed. Then Savelko cried:</p> - -<p>"What is the matter with you? You yourself complained that the people -were fools, and now you are shamelessly making a fool of Matveika! Why?"</p> - -<p>He jumped over to me and said:</p> - -<p>"Look, Motka, here are matches. I rub them between my hands, see? Put -out the light, Larion."</p> - -<p>They put out the lamp, and I saw Savelko's two hands glow in the -darkness with the same blue phosphorescence as the miraculous ikon. It -was terrible and offensive to see.</p> - -<p>Savelko said something, but I crouched in a corner of the stove, closed -my ears with my fingers, and remained silent. Then they crawled in -by my side, took vodka along, and for a long time they took turns in -telling me about true miracles and of the faith of man sacrilegiously -betrayed. And so I fell asleep while they talked.</p> - -<p>After two or three days, many priests and officials arrived, arrested -the ikon, dismissed the village elder from his post, and the priest, -too, was threatened with a law-suit. Then I believed the whole thing -had been a fraud, though it was hard for me to admit that it was done -for the purpose of getting linen from the women and some pennies from -the men.</p> - -<p>When I was six years old, Larion began to teach me the abcs in the -Church-tongue and when two winters later a school was opened in our -village, he sent me there. At first I grew somewhat apart from Larion. -I liked to study, and I took to my books zealously, so that when he -asked me my lessons, as sometimes happened, he would say, after hearing -me,</p> - -<p>"Fine, Motka."</p> - -<p>Once he said:</p> - -<p>"Good blood boils in you. It's plain your father was no fool." And I -asked,</p> - -<p>"But where is he?"</p> - -<p>"Who can know!"</p> - -<p>"Is he a peasant?"</p> - -<p>"All one can say for sure is that he was a man. His caste is unknown. -However, he could hardly have been a peasant. By your face and skin, -not to mention your character, he seems to have been from the gentry."</p> - -<p>Those casual words of his sank deep into my mind and they didn't do -me much good. When they called me a foundling at school, I balked and -shouted to my comrades:</p> - -<p>"You are peasant children, but my father is a gentleman!"</p> - -<p>I became very firm about this. One must protect oneself somehow -against insults, and I had no other protection in my mind. They began -to dislike me, to call me bad names, and I fought back. I was a strong -youngster and could fight easily. Complaints grew about me, and people -said to the sexton:</p> - -<p>"Quiet that bastard of yours!"</p> - -<p>And others without bothering to complain, pulled my ears to their -hearts' content.</p> - -<p>Then Larion said to me:</p> - -<p>"You may be a son of a general, Matvei, but that isn't of such great -importance. We are all born in the same way and therefore the honor is -the same for all."</p> - -<p>But it was too late. I was twelve years old at the time and felt -insults keenly. Something pulled me away from people and again I found -myself close to the sexton. All winter we wandered together in the -wood, catching birds, and I became worse in my studies.</p> - -<p>I finished school at thirteen, and Larion began to think what he should -do with me. I would go rowing with him in a boat, I at the oars and he -steering, and he led me in his thoughts over all the paths of human -fate, telling me of the various vocations in life.</p> - -<p>He saw me a priest, a soldier, an employee, and nowhere was it good for -me.</p> - -<p>"What should it be then, Motka?" he would ask.</p> - -<p>Then he would look at me and say, laughing,</p> - -<p>"Never mind, don't get frightened. If you don't fall down, you will -crawl out. Only avoid the military. That's a man's finish."</p> - -<p>In August, soon after the Day of Assumption, we went together to the -lake of Liubushin to catch sheat-fish. Larion was a bit drunk and he -had wine along with him. From time to time he sipped from the bottle, -cleared his throat and sang so that he could be heard over the whole -water.</p> - -<p>His boat was bad, it was small and unsteady. He made a sharp turn, the -bow dipped, and we both found ourselves in the water. It was not the -first time that such a thing happened, and I was not frightened. I rose -and saw Larion swimming at my side, shaking his head and saying to me:</p> - -<p>"Swim to the bank and I'll push the damned tub there."</p> - -<p>It was not far from the bank and the current was weak. I swam -tranquilly, when suddenly I felt as if something pulled at my feet, or -as if I had struck a cold current, and looking back, I saw that our -boat was floating bottom up, and Larion was not there. He was nowhere.</p> - -<p>Like a stone striking my head, terror hit my heart. A cramp seized me -and I sank to the bottom.</p> - -<p>An employee from the estate, Yegor Titoff, who was crossing the field, -saw how we capsized. He saw Larion disappear and when I began to drown, -Titoff was already on the bank undressing. He pulled me out, but Larion -was not found until night.</p> - -<p>His dear soul was extinguished, and immediately it became both dark and -cold for me. When they buried him, I was sick in bed, and I could not -escort the dear man to the cemetery. When I was up, the first thing -I did was to go to his grave. I sat there, and could not even weep, -so great was my sorrow. His voice rang in my memory, his words lived -again, but the man who used to lay his tender hand on my head was no -longer on this earth. Everything became strange and distant. I sat with -my eyes closed. Suddenly somebody picked me up. He took me by the hand -and picked me up. I looked and saw Titoff.</p> - -<p>"You have nothing to do here," he said. "Come." And he led me away. I -went with him.</p> - -<p>He said to me:</p> - -<p>"It seems you have a good heart, youngster, it remembers the good."</p> - -<p>But this did not make me feel any better. I was silent. Titoff -continued:</p> - -<p>"Even at the time when you were abandoned, I thought to myself, I shall -take the child to me, but I came too late. However, it seems it is -God's wish. Here He again puts your life into my hands. That means you -will come to live with me."</p> - -<p>It was all the same to me then, whether to live, not to live, how -to live or with whom.... Thus I passed from one point in my life to -another without realizing it myself.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h4> - - -<p>After a time I began to take interest in all that surrounded me. Titoff -was a silent man, tall in stature, with his head and cheeks shaved like -a soldier's, and he wore a long mustache. He spoke slowly and as if he -were afraid to say one word too many, or as if he were in doubt himself -of what he was saying. He held his hands in his pocket or crossed -them behind his back, as if he were ashamed of them. I knew that the -peasants of the village and even those of the neighboring district -hated him. Two years before, in the village of Mabina, they beat him -with a stake. They said that he always carried a revolver with him.</p> - -<p>His wife, Nastasia, was handsome, tall and slender. Her face was -bloodless, with two feverish, large eyes. She was often sick. Her -daughter, Olga, who was three years my junior, was also pale and thin.</p> - -<p>A great silence reigned about them. Their floor was covered with thick -carpet, and not a footstep could be heard. Even the clock on the wall -ticked inaudibly. The lamps, which were never extinguished, burned -before their holy images. There were prints stuck on the walls, showing -the Last Judgment and the Martyrdom of the Apostles and of Saint -Barbara. In one corner, on the low stove, a large cat, the color of -smoke, looked out of its green eyes on the surroundings and seemed to -guard the silence.</p> - -<p>In the midst of this awful stillness it took me a long time to forget -the songs of Larion and his birds.</p> - -<p>Titoff brought me to the office of the estate and showed me the books. -Thus I lived. It seemed to me that Titoff watched me and followed me -about in silence as if he expected something from me. I felt depressed -and unhappy. I was never gay, but now I became almost morose. I had no -one to speak to, and, moreover, I did not wish to speak to any one. -When Titoff or his wife asked me about Larion I did not answer, but -mumbled something. A feeling of unhappiness and sadness weighed upon -me. Titoff displeased me by the suspicious stillness of his life.</p> - -<p>I went almost daily to the church to help the watchman, Vlassi, and -also the new sexton, a handsome young man, who had been a school -teacher. He was not interested in his work, but he was a great friend -of the priest, whose hand he always kissed and whom he followed about -like a dog. He continually reproved me, for which he was in the wrong, -because I knew the holy service better than he did and always did -everything according to rule.</p> - -<p>It was at this time, when life became difficult for me, that I began to -love God. One day when I was placing the tapers in front of the image -of the Holy Virgin and her Child, before mass, I saw that they looked -at me with a grave and compassionate expression. I began to weep, and, -falling on my knees, I prayed for I do not know what—for Larion, no -doubt. I do not know how long I remained there, but I arose consoled, -my heart warm and animated. Vlassi was at the altar and he mumbled -something incomprehensible. I mounted the steps, and when I was near -him he looked at me.</p> - -<p>"You look very happy," he said. "Have you found a kopeck?"</p> - -<p>I knew why he asked that question, for I often found money on the -ground. But now these words left an unpleasant impression on me, as if -some one had hurt my heart.</p> - -<p>"I was praying to God," I said.</p> - -<p>"To which one?" he asked me. "We have more than a hundred here. And the -living One, the true One, who is not made of wood, where is He? Go and -find Him."</p> - -<p>I knew the value to attach to his words. Nevertheless, they appeared -offensive to me at this time. Vlassi was a decrepit old man, who could -hardly walk. His limbs stuck out at the knees and he always tottered as -if he were walking on a rope. He had not a tooth in his mouth, and his -dark face looked like an old rag, from which two wild eyes stuck out. -He had lost his reason and had commenced to rave even some time before -Larion's death.</p> - -<p>"I don't watch the church," he said. "I watch cattle. I was born a -shepherd and shall die a shepherd. Yes, soon I shall leave the church -for the fields."</p> - -<p>Every one knew that he had never watched cattle.</p> - -<p>"The church is a cemetery," he would say. "It is a dead place. I wish -to deal with something living. I must go and feed cattle. All my -ancestors have been shepherds, and I also up to my forty-second year."</p> - -<p>Larion used to make fun of him. One day he said to him laughingly:</p> - -<p>"In olden times there was a god of cattle who was called Voloss. -Perhaps he was your great-greatgrandfather."</p> - -<p>Vlassi questioned him about Voloss; then he said:</p> - -<p>"That's right. I have known that I was a god for a long time, only I am -afraid of the priest. Wait a little, sexton; don't you tell it to him. -When the right time comes I will tell him myself."</p> - -<p>It was impossible to get the idea out of his head. I knew that he was -crazy, yet he worried me.</p> - -<p>"Take care," I said to him. "God will punish you."</p> - -<p>And he muttered: "I am a god myself."</p> - -<p>Suddenly my foot caught on the carpet and I fell, and I interpreted -it as an omen. From that day I began to love passionately all that -pertained to the church. The ardor of my childish heart was so great -that everything became sacred for me—not only the images and the -gospels, but even the chandeliers and the censer, whose very coals -became precious in my eyes. I used to touch these objects with joy and -with a feeling of great respect. When I went up the steps of the altar -my heart would cease beating, and I could have kissed the flagstones. -I felt that I was under One who saw everything, directed my steps and -surrounded me with a supernatural force; who warmed my heart with a -dazzling and blinding light, and I saw only myself. At times I remained -alone in the darkness of the temple, but it was light in my heart; for -my God was there, and there was no place for childish troubles, nor -for the sufferings which surrounded me—that is to say, the human life -about me. The nearer one comes to God, the farther one is from man. -But, of course, I did not understand that at that time.</p> - -<p>I began to read all the religious works which fell into my hands. Thus -my heart became filled with the divine word. My soul drank avidly of -its exquisite sweetness, and a fountain of grateful tears opened within -me. Often I went to the church before the other faithful ones, and, -kneeling before the image of the Trinity, I wept lightly and humbly, -without thinking and without praying. I had nothing to ask of God and I -worshiped Him with complete self-forgetfulness. I remembered Larion's -words:</p> - -<p>"When you pray with your lips you pray to the air and not to God. God -thinks of the thoughts, not the words, like man."</p> - -<p>I did not even have thoughts. I knelt and sang in silence a joyful -song, happy in the thought that I was not alone in the world and that -God was near me and guarded me. That was a happy time for me, like a -calm and joyful holiday. I liked to remain alone in the church, when -the noise and the whisperings were over. Then I lost myself in the -stillness and rose up to the clouds, and from that height man and all -that pertained to man became more and more invisible to me.</p> - -<p>But Vlassi bothered me. He dragged his feet on the flagstones, he -trembled like the shadows of a tree shaken by the wind, and he muttered -with his toothless mouth:</p> - -<p>"I have nothing to do here. Is it my business? I am a god, the shepherd -of all earthly cattle. To-morrow I am going away into the fields. Why -have they exiled me here in these cold shadows? Is this my work?"</p> - -<p>He troubled me with his blasphemies, for I imagined that his profanity -sullied the purity of the temple and that God was angry at his being in -His house.</p> - -<p>People began to notice my piety and my religious zeal. When the priest -met me he grunted and blessed me in a special way, and I had to kiss -his hand, which was always cold and covered with sweat. Although I -envied his being initiated into the divine mysteries, I did not love -him and was even afraid of him.</p> - -<p>Titoff's little, dull eyes, like buttons, followed me with increasing -vigilance. Every one treated me carefully, as if I were made of glass. -More than once little Olga would ask me, in a low voice:</p> - -<p>"Will you be a saint?"</p> - -<p>She was timid even when I was kind, when I told her religious stories. -On winter nights I read aloud the Prologue and the Minea. Gusts of snow -blew over the country, groaning and beating against the walls. In the -room silence reigned and no one stirred. Titoff sat with head bowed, -so that his face could not be seen. Nastasia, who was sleepy, sat with -her eyes fixed on me. When the frost crackled she trembled and glanced -about her, smiling gently. When she did not understand the meaning of a -Slavic word she would ask me. Her sweet voice resounded for an instant, -and then again there was quiet. Only the flying snow sang plaintively, -wandering over the fields seeking repose.</p> - -<p>The holy martyrs, who fought for the Lord and celebrated His greatness -by their life and by their death, were especially dear to my soul. -I was touched also by the merciful and pious men who sacrificed -everything for love of their neighbors. But I did not understand those -who left the world in the name of God and went away to live in a desert -or in a cave. I felt that the devil was too powerful for the Anchorites -and the Stylites, that he made them flee before him. Larion had denied -the devil. Nevertheless, the life of the saints forced me to recognize -him. And, besides, the fall of man would be incomprehensible if one did -not admit the existence of the devil. Larion saw in God the one and -omnipotent Creator, but then from where came evil? According to the -life of the saints, the author of all evil is the devil. In this rôle -I accepted him. God, then, was the creator of cherries, and the devil -the creator of burrs; God the creator of nightingales and the devil -the creator of owls. However, although I accepted the devil, I did -not believe in him and was not afraid of him. He was useful to me in -explaining the existence of evil; but at the same time he bothered me, -for he lessened the majesty of God.</p> - -<p>I forced myself not to think of this problem, but Titoff continually -made me think of sin and of the power of the devil. When I read, he -questioned me curtly, without raising his eyes.</p> - -<p>"Matvei, what does that last word mean?"</p> - -<p>And I explained it.</p> - -<p>Then after a second of silence, he would say:</p> - -<p>"Where can I hide before Thy countenance? Where can I flee before Thy -wrath?"</p> - -<p>His wife would sigh deeply and look at him, still more frightened, as -if she expected something terrible. Olga blinked her blue eyes and -suggested:</p> - -<p>"In the forest."</p> - -<p>"Where can I flee before Thy wrath?" he repeated.</p> - -<p>This time I remember he took his hands from his pockets and twirled his -long mustache, and his eyebrows trembled. He hid his hands and said:</p> - -<p>"It was King David who asked, 'Where can I flee?' Yes, he was a king -and he was afraid. You see that the devil was stronger than he. He was -anointed of God and the devil conquered him. 'Where can I flee?' To -hell—that is certain. We lesser people, we have nothing to hope for if -the kings themselves go there."</p> - -<p>He frequently returned to this subject. I did not always understand his -words; nevertheless, they produced a disagreeable impression upon me.</p> - -<p>People began to speak more and more about my piety. One day Titoff said -to me:</p> - -<p>"Pray zealously for my whole family, Matvei. I beg of you, pray for us. -You will thus repay me for having gathered you to me and treated you -like a son."</p> - -<p>But what did that mean to me? My prayers were without object, like the -song of a bird which he pours out to the sun. Nevertheless, I began -to pray for him and for his family, and especially for little Olga, -who had become a very pretty young girl, sweet and tender. I borrowed -the words of the Psalms of David and all the other prayers which I -knew. I liked to repeat the sing-song and cadenced phrases, but from -the time when I said in praying for Titoff: "Lord, in Thy grace, have -pity on Thy servant, Yegor," my heart closed. The spring of my prayers -became dry, the serenity of my joys was disturbed. I was ashamed before -God and could not continue. Lowering my eyes before the countenances -of the holy saints I arose, overcome with a feeling of anger and -embarrassment. It troubled me. Why should I feel like that? I tried to -understand it, but could not, and I was sorry for the joy which had -been destroyed on account of this man.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></h4> - -<p>The people about me began to notice me, and I took notice of them, too.</p> - -<p>On holidays when I walked through the streets I was stared at with -much curiosity. Some greeted me earnestly while others mocked, but all -looked after me.</p> - -<p>"Here goes our prayer-book," was heard. "Say, Matvei, are you going to -become a saint?"</p> - -<p>"Don't laugh at him, friends; he is not a priest and he does not -believe in God for the sake of the money."</p> - -<p>"Have there not been peasants who became saints?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, we have all kinds of men, but that does not help us much."</p> - -<p>"Who said he is a peasant? He has got gentleman's blood in him—but -that's a secret."</p> - -<p>And thus they calked, and some praised and some jeered.</p> - -<p>As for myself, I was then in a peculiar state of mind. I wished to be -at peace with all and wanted all to love me. However, try as I would to -live up to it, their insults prevented me.</p> - -<p>Of all who persecuted me, Savelko Migun was the worst. He fell on his -knees when he saw me and prostrated himself, declaiming aloud:</p> - -<p>"Your Holiness, I bow to the ground before you. Pray for Savelko, I beg -of you. God may do the right thing by him then. Teach me how to please -the Lord God. Must I stop stealing, or must I steal more and burn him a -wax candle?"</p> - -<p>The crowds laughed at Savelko's jokes, but they made me feel queer and -hurt me.</p> - -<p>He would continue:</p> - -<p>"Oh, ye Orthodox, prostrate yourself before the Righteous One. He -fleeces the peasants in his office and then reads the gospel in church. -And God cannot hear how the peasants howl."</p> - -<p>I was sixteen and could easily have broken his face for his insults. -But instead, I took to avoiding him. When he noticed this he gave me -no leeway at all. He composed a song, which he sang in the streets on -holidays, accompanying himself with his balalaika.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Oh, the squires embrace the maidens,<br /> -And the maidens all grow big;<br /> -From these gentlemanly doings<br /> -Come out dirty cheats as children.<br /> -They are thrown upon the masters<br /> -Who refuse to feed them gratis;<br /> -And they put them in their office,<br /> -To the peasants' great misfortune."<br /> -</p> - -<p>It was a long song and everybody was mentioned in it, but Titoff and -I had the biggest share of all. It got to such a point that when I -caught sight of Savelko with his little thin beard, his cap on his ear -and his bald head, I trembled all over. I felt like springing on him -and breaking him into bits.</p> - -<p>Though I was young, I could hold myself in with a strong hand. When he -walked behind me, jingling, I did not move a muscle to show that it was -hard to bear. I walked slowly and made believe I did not hear.</p> - -<p>I began to pray more zealously, for I felt that I had no protection -except prayers, which, however, were now filled with complaints and -bitter words.</p> - -<p>"Wherefore, O Lord, am I to blame that my father and mother abandoned -me and threw me like a kitten into the brush?"</p> - -<p>I could find no other sin in me. I saw men and women placed on this -earth without rhyme or reason; saw each one so accustomed to his -business that the custom became law. How was I to know right off why -and against whom this strange force is directed?</p> - -<p>However, I began to think things over, and I grew more and more -troubled as things became insufferable to me.</p> - -<p>Our landlord, Constantine Nicolaievitch Loseff, was rich and owned -much land, and he hardly ever came to our estate, which was considered -unlucky by the family. Somebody had strangled the landlord's mother, -his father had fallen from a horse and been killed, and his wife had -run away from him here.</p> - -<p>I only saw the landlord twice. He was a stout man, tall, wore -spectacles and had an officer's cape and cap, lined with red. They said -he held a high position under the Czar and that he was very learned and -wrote books. The two times he was on the estate he swore at Titoff very -thoroughly and even shook his fist in his face.</p> - -<p>Titoff was the one absolute power on the estate of Sokolie. There was -not much land, and only so much grain was sown as was necessary for the -household. The rest of the land was rented to the peasants. Later there -came an order that no more land should be rented and that flax should -be sown on the whole estate. A factory was being opened nearby.</p> - -<p>In addition to myself, there sat in a corner of the office Ivan -Makarovitch Judin. His soul was half dead and he was always drunk. He -had been a telegraph operator, but he had lost his position on account -of his drunkenness. He took care of the books, wrote the letters, made -the contracts with the peasants, and was remarkably silent. When he was -spoken to, he only nodded his head and coughed a little. At most he -answered, "All right." He was short and thin, but his face was round -and puffy, and his eyes could hardly be seen. He was entirely bald and -he walked on his tip-toes, silently and unsteadily, as the blind. On -the Feast of the Virgin of Kazin, the peasants made Judin so drunk with -vodka that he died.</p> - -<p>I was alone now in the office, did all the work, and received a salary -from Titoff of forty rubles a year. He gave me Olga as an assistant.</p> - -<p>I had noticed for a long time that the peasants walked around the -office as wolves around a trap. They see the trap, but they are hungry, -and the bait tempts them, so they begin to eat.</p> - -<p>When I was alone in the office and became acquainted with all the books -and plans, I realized, even with my poor understanding, that our whole -arrangement was nothing more than theft. The peasants were head over -ears in debt and worked, not for themselves, but for Titoff. I cannot -say that I was either very much surprised or ashamed at this discovery. -And even if I did understand now why Savelko swore at me and insulted -me, still I did not think it was right of him. Was it then I who had -originated this stealing?</p> - -<p>I saw that Titoff was not quite straight even with the landlord, and -that he stuffed his pockets as much as he dared.</p> - -<p>I became bolder toward him, for I realized that in some way I was -necessary to him. And now I understood why. I had to hide him, the -thief, from the Lord God. He now called me his "dear son," and his wife -did so too. They dressed me well, for which, of course, I was grateful.</p> - -<p>But my heart did not go out toward them, and my soul was not warmed by -their goodness. I became more and more friendly with Olga, however. I -liked her wistful smile, her low voice and her love of flowers.</p> - -<p>Titoff and his wife walked before God with sunken heads, like a team of -horses, and behind their timid glances seemed to be continually hiding -something which must have been even greater than theft.</p> - -<p>I did not like Titoff's hands. He always hid them in a manner which -made me suspicious. Perhaps those hands had strangled some one; perhaps -there was blood on them. They kept asking me, he as well as she:</p> - -<p>"Pray for our sins, Motia."</p> - -<p>One day I could stand it no longer. I asked them:</p> - -<p>"Are you then more sinful than others?"</p> - -<p>Nastasia sighed and went away, and he turned on his heel and did not -answer.</p> - -<p>In the house he was thoughtful and spoke very little, and then only on -business. He never swore at the peasants, but he was always haughty -with them, which was worse than swearing. He never conceded a point and -stood his ground as firmly as if he were sunk to the waist in the earth.</p> - -<p>"One should give in to them," I said to him once.</p> - -<p>"Never," he answered. "Not an iota must you give in, or you are lost."</p> - -<p>Another time he ordered me to count false, and I said to him:</p> - -<p>"You can't do that."</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"It is a sin."</p> - -<p>"It is not you who are forcing me to sin, but I you. Write as I tell -you. No one will ask any account of you, you are only my hand. Your -piety will not suffer by it; have no fear. For ten rubles a month -neither I nor anybody else can live honorably. Do you understand that?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, you scoundrel!" I said to myself. But aloud I said to him: "That -is quite enough. Things must end right here. If you don't stop this -swindling I will tell the village all about your deals."</p> - -<p>He pulled his mustache up to his nose, lifted his shoulders to his -ears, showed his teeth and stared at me with his round, bulging eyes. -We measured each other.</p> - -<p>"You will do that, really?" he said to me in a low voice.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>Titoff burst out laughing, and it sounded as if some one had thrown -silver pieces on the ground.</p> - -<p>"All right, my holy one, that is all that I needed. From now on we will -manage this affair differently. We won't bother any more with kopecks. -We will deal with rubles. If the thief's dress is too tight, he becomes -honest."</p> - -<p>He went out, slamming the door so that the panes in the windows rattled.</p> - -<p>It seemed to me that Titoff was a little more cross after that. Still -I was not quite sure of it. But he left me in, peace from then on.</p> - -<p>He was a terrible miser, and though he did not deny himself anything, -nevertheless he knew how to value a penny. He ate well and was very -fond of women, and as he had the power in his hands, there was not a -woman in the village who dared to refuse him. He let the young girls -alone, and only went to the married women. He made my blood hot once or -twice.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter, Matvei?" he asked. "Are you timid? To take a woman -is like giving charity. In the country every woman yearns for love. -But the men are weak and worn out, and what can the women expect from -them? You are a strong, handsome young fellow; why not make love to the -women? You would get some pleasure out of it yourself."</p> - -<p>He followed every villainy, the low rascal. Once he asked me:</p> - -<p>"Do you think, Matvei, that a pious man is of much value in the eyes of -God?"</p> - -<p>I did not like such questions. "I don't know," I answered.</p> - -<p>He remained doubtful for a minute and then he said:</p> - -<p>"God led Lot out of Sodom and saved Noah; but thousands perished by -fire and water. Still it says, 'Thou shalt not kill.' Often it seems -to me that these thousands perished because among them there were a -few pious and virtuous people. God saw that despite the stringent laws -which He gave, there were several who could lead a righteous life. If -there had been no pious men in Sodom, God would have seen that it was -impossible to observe His commandments and He might have lightened -them without putting to death thousands of people. They call Him the -All-merciful One. But where is His mercy?"</p> - -<p>I did not understand then that this man was only seeking license to -sin. Nevertheless, the words angered me.</p> - -<p>"You are blaspheming," I said. "You are afraid of God, but you don't -love Him."</p> - -<p>He drew his hands out of his pockets, threw them behind his back, and -his face turned gray. It was plain that he was in great wrath.</p> - -<p>"Whether it is so or not, I don't know," he answered, "but it seems -to me that you pious ones use God as a ruler by which you mark off -the sins of others. Without such as you, God would have a hard time -measuring sins."</p> - -<p>He took no notice of me for a long time after that. But an insufferable -hatred rose in my soul against this man. I avoided him even more than -I did Savelko. If at night I mentioned his name in my prayers, an -ungovernable anger possessed me. It was at this time that I said my -first spontaneous prayer:</p> - -<p>"I do not wish to seek grace for a thief, O Lord. I ask that he be -punished. May he not rob the poor without being punished."</p> - -<p>And I prayed to God so ardently that Titoff be punished that I grew -frightened at the terrible fate that awaited him.</p> - -<p>Soon after this I bad another encounter with Migun. He came to the -office for lime-bast,<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> when I happened to be alone. I asked him:</p> - -<p>"Why do you always make fun of me, Savel?"</p> - -<p>He showed his teeth and stared at me with his piercing eyes.</p> - -<p>"I haven't much business here," he said. "I only came for lime-bast."</p> - -<p>My legs trembled beneath me and my hands clenched of themselves. I -clutched his throat and shook him lightly.</p> - -<p>"What have I done?"</p> - -<p>He was not frightened, nor was he angry. He simply took my hand -and pushed it from his throat as if it were he, not I, who was the -stronger. "When you are choking some one, he cannot speak well," he -said. "Let me alone," he continued; "I have received beatings enough, -and I don't need yours. Besides, you mustn't strike any one. It is -against the commandments."</p> - -<p>He spoke quietly and mockingly, in a light tone. I shouted:</p> - -<p>"What do you want here?"</p> - -<p>"Some lime-bast."</p> - -<p>I saw that I could make no headway with him by words, and my anger was -already gone. I now only felt hurt and cold.</p> - -<p>"You are all beasts," I said. "Can you make fun of a man because his -parents abandoned him?"</p> - -<p>He threw his words at me as if they were little stones:</p> - -<p>"Don't be a hypocrite. We know you by your actions. You eat stolen -bread and others suffer want."</p> - -<p>"You lie!" I said. "I work for my bread."</p> - -<p>"Without work you can't even steal a chicken. That is an old story."</p> - -<p>He looked at me with a devilish smile in his eyes and said pityingly:</p> - -<p>"Oh, Matvei, what a good child you used to be. And now you have become -learned, despite God, and like all thieves in our country, you found -a religion based on God's truth that all men have not equally long -fingers."</p> - -<p>I threw him out of the office. I did not want to understand his play on -words, for I considered myself a true servant of God and valued my own -opinion more than any one else's.</p> - -<p>I felt strange and fearful, as if the strength of my soul was -vanishing. I had not sunk so low as to whine before God against man, -for I was no Pharisee for all that I was a fool. I knelt before the -holy Virgin of Abalatzk and looked up at her countenance and at her -hands, which were uplifted to heaven. The little fire in the holy lamp -flickered and a faint shadow spread over the ikon. The same shadow fell -on my heart and something strange and invisible and oppressive rose up -betwixt God and myself. I lost all joy in prayer, and I became wretched -and even Olga was no longer a comfort to me.</p> - -<p>But she looked at me all the more kindly. I was eighteen at this time, -a well developed youth, with red curly hair and a pale face. I wanted -to come nearer her, yet was embarrassed, for I was innocent before -women then. The women in the village laughed at me for it, and it even -seemed to me at times that Olga herself smiled at me in a queer way. -More than once the enticing thought came to me: "There, that's my wife."</p> - -<p>Day in, day out, I sat with her in the office in silence. When she -asked me some questions about the business I answered, and in that lay -our whole conversation.</p> - -<p>She was slender and white, like a young birch, and her eyes were blue -and thoughtful. To me she seemed pretty and tender in her quiet, -mysterious wistfulness.</p> - -<p>Once she asked me:</p> - -<p>"What makes you so sad, Matvei?"</p> - -<p>I had never spoken about myself with any one before, nor had ever -wished to. But here suddenly my heart opened and I poured out all my -misery to her. I told her of the shame of my birth, of the abuse that -I suffered for it, and of the loneliness and wretchedness of my soul, -and of her father. I told her everything. I did not do it to complain. -It was only to unburden myself of my inmost thoughts, of which I had -amassed quite a quantity—all worthless, I suppose.</p> - -<p>"I had better enter a monastery," I ended.</p> - -<p>She became depressed, hung her head and did not answer. I was pleased -at her distress, but her silence hurt me. Three days later she said to -me softly:</p> - -<p>"It is wrong to watch people so much. Each one lives for himself. To be -sure, now you are alone, but when you will have your own family, you -will need no one and you will live like the rest, for yourself, in your -own house and home. As for my father, don't judge him. I see that no -one loves him, but I can't see wherein he is worse than the rest. Where -does one see love anyway?"</p> - -<p>Her words consoled me. I always did everything impetuously, and so -here, too, I burst forth:</p> - -<p>"Would you marry me?"</p> - -<p>She turned and whispered:</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> A vegetable fiber made from the bark of the lime tree.</p></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></h4> - - -<p>It was done. The next day I told Titoff, just the way it happened.</p> - -<p>He smiled, stroked his mustache and began again to torture me.</p> - -<p>"You want to become my son. The way is open for you, Matvei; it is the -will of God and I make no objections. You're a serious, modest, healthy -young man. You pray for us, and in every way you are a treasure. I say -that without flattery. But in order to have enough to live on, one must -understand business, and your leanings that way are very weak. That's -the first thing. The second, you will be called to military service in -two years and you will have to go. Should you have some money saved up -by then, say some five hundred rubles, you might buy yourself off. I -could manage that for you. But without money you will have to go and -Olga will remain here, neither wife nor widow."</p> - -<p>He struck me in the heart with these dull words. His mustache trembled -and a green fire burned in his eyes. I pictured military life to -myself. It was terrible and antipathetic to me. What kind of a soldier -would I make? The very fact that I would have to live with others in -the barracks was enough, and then the drinking and the swearing and -the brawls! Everything about the service seemed inhuman to me. Titoff's -words crushed me.</p> - -<p>"That means," I said to him, "that I become a monk."</p> - -<p>Titoff laughed.</p> - -<p>"It is too late. They don't make you a monk right away, and novices are -recruited as well as laymen. No, Matvei, there is no way to bribe fate -but with money."</p> - -<p>"Then give me the money," I said to him; "you have enough."</p> - -<p>"Aha," he said, "what a lucky thought of yours! Only, how would I fare -by it? Perhaps I earned my money by heavy sins; perhaps I even sold my -soul to the devil for it? While I wallow in sin you lead a righteous -life. And you want to continue it at the expense of my sinning. It is -easy for a righteous one to attain heaven if a sinner carry him in -on his back. However, I refuse to be your horse. Better do your own -sinning. God will forgive you, for you have already merited it."</p> - -<p>I looked at Titoff and he seemed to have suddenly grown yards taller -than I, and I was crawling somewhere at his feet. I understood that he -was making fun of me, and I stopped the discussion.</p> - -<p>In the evening I told Olga what her father said. Tears shone in the -girl's eyes, and a little blue vein beat; near her ear. Its sad beating -found an echo in my heart. Olga said, smiling: "So things aren't going -as we want them to?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, they will go," I said.</p> - -<p>I said these words thoughtlessly, but with them I gave my word of honor -to her and to myself, and I could not break it.</p> - -<p>That day an unclean life began for me. It was a dark, drunken period, -and my soul flew hither and thither like a pigeon in a cloud of smoke. -I was sorry about Olga and I wanted her for my wife, for I loved -her. But above all I saw that Titoff was more powerful than I, and -stronger-willed; and it was insufferable to my pride. I had despised -his villainous ways and his wretched heart, when suddenly I discovered -that something strong lived in him, which looked down on me and -overpowered me.</p> - -<p>It became known in the village that I had proposed and had been -refused. The girls tittered, the women stared at me, and Savelko made -new jokes. All this enraged me and my soul became dark within.</p> - -<p>When I prayed I felt as if Titoff were behind me, breathing on the nape -of my neck, and I prayed incoherently and irreverently. My joy in God -left me and I thought only of my own affairs. What will become of me?</p> - -<p>"Help me, O Lord," I prayed. "Teach me not to wander from Thy path and -not to lose my soul in sin. Thou art strong and merciful. Deliver Thy -servant from evil and strengthen him against temptation, that he may -not succumb to the wiles of his enemies nor grow to doubt the strength -of Thy love for Thy servant."</p> - -<p>Thus I brought God down from the height of His indescribable beauty and -made Him do service as a help in my petty affairs, and having lowered -God, I myself sunk low.</p> - -<p>Olga in her sorrow shrunk from day to day, like a burning wax candle. I -tried to imagine her living with some one else, but could not place any -one beside her except myself. By the strength of his love, man creates -another in his image, and so I thought that the girl understood my -soul, read my thoughts and was as indispensable to me as I to myself. -Her mother became even more depressed than before. She looked at me -with tears in her eyes and sighed. But Titoff hid his ugly hands, -walked up and down the room and circled silently around me like a raven -over a dying dog, who is about to pick out his eyes the moment death -came.</p> - -<p>A month passed and I was at the same point where I left off. I felt as -if I were on the edge of a steep ravine which I did not know how to -cross. I was disgusted and heavy-hearted. Once Titoff walked up to me -in the office and said in a whisper:</p> - -<p>"You have an opportunity now. Take it if you want to be a man."</p> - -<p>The opportunity was of such a nature that if it succeeded the peasants -would lose much, the estate profit a bit and Titoff make about two -hundred rubles. He explained it and asked:</p> - -<p>"Well, you don't dare?"</p> - -<p>Had he asked it in some other way, I might not have fallen into his -clutches, but his words frenzied me.</p> - -<p>"Not dare to steal? You don't need daring for that, but just meanness. -All right, let's steal."</p> - -<p>Here he laughed, the scoundrel, and asked:</p> - -<p>"What about the sin?"</p> - -<p>"I'll take care of my own sins," I answered.</p> - -<p>"Good," he said, "and know that from now on each day brings you nearer -the wedding."</p> - -<p>He enticed me, fool that I was, like a wolf with a lamb in a trap.</p> - -<p>And so it commenced. I wasn't stupid in business, and I had always -had enough audacity in me. We began to rob the peasants as if we were -playing a match. I followed each move he made with a bolder one. We -said not a word, only looked at each other. There was mockery in his -eyes and wrath burned in mine. He was the victor, and since I lost all -to him, I did not want to be outdone in wickedness by him. I falsified -the weights in measuring flax, I did not mark the fines when the -peasants' cattle strayed on the landlord's pastures, and I cheated the -peasants out of every kopeck I could. But I did not count the money nor -gather in the rubles myself. I let everything go to Titoff, which, of -course, did not make things easier either for me or the peasants.</p> - -<p>In a word, I was as if possessed, and my heart was heavy and cold. -When I thought of God I burned with shame. Nevertheless, I threw -reproaches at Him more than once.</p> - -<p>"Why dost Thou not keep me from falling with Thy strong arm? Why dost -Thou try me beyond my strength? Dost Thou not see, O Lord, how my soul -is being destroyed?"</p> - -<p>There were times when Olga seemed strange to me, and when I looked at -her and thought, of her hostilely.</p> - -<p>"For your sake, unhappy one, I am selling my soul."</p> - -<p>After such words I grew ashamed of myself before her and became kind -and gentle—as gentle as possible.</p> - -<p>But, of course, it was not out of pity for myself nor for the peasants -that I suffered and gnashed my teeth in wrath; but for sheer chagrin -that I could not conquer Titoff and that I had to act according to his -will. When I remembered the words he often used against pious people, I -became cold all over; and he saw the situation through and through and -triumphed.</p> - -<p>"Well, my holy one," he said, "it is time to begin thinking of your own -nest. You will be too crowded here when you have a wife. You will have -children, of course."</p> - -<p>He called me "holy one." I did not answer. He called me that more and -more often; but his daughter became all the more loving, all the more -tender to me. She understood clearly how heavy my heart was.</p> - -<p>Then Titoff begged from the landlord, Loseff, when he went to pay his -respects to him, a little piece of land for me. They gave him a pretty -place behind the manor building, and he began to build us a little -house.</p> - -<p>And I continued to oppress and to cheat.</p> - -<p>Things began to move quickly. Our pockets swelled. The little house -began to be built and shone bright in the sun, like a golden cage for -Olga. Soon the roof was to be put on, and then the stove had to be -built, and in the fall it would be finished for us to move into.</p> - -<p>One evening I was going home from the village of Jakimoffka, where I -had gone to take the cattle from some peasants for their debts. Just -as I stepped out of the wood which lay before the village, I saw my -house in the sunset burning like a torch. At first I thought it was the -reflection of the sun surrounding it with red rays which reached up to -heaven. But then I saw the people running and heard the fire crackle -and snap, and my heart suddenly broke. I saw that God was my enemy. Had -I had a stone then, I would have thrown it against heaven. I saw how my -thievish work was going up in smoke and ashes, and saw myself as if on -fire, and said:</p> - -<p>"Thou desirest to show me, O Lord, that I have burnt my soul to dust -and ashes. Thou desirest to show me that. I do not believe it; I do not -wish Thy humiliation. It was not through Thy will that it burned but -because the peasants through hatred of me and Titoff set fire to it. -I do not wish to believe in Thy wrath, not because I am not worthy of -it, but because this wrath is not worthy of Thee. Thou didst not wish -to lend Thy help to the weak in the hour of his need, so that he could -withstand sin. Thus, Thou art the guilty One, not I. As in a dark wood, -which was already full grown, so I stepped into sin. How could I then -have kept myself free from it?"</p> - -<p>But these foolish words could neither console me nor make me right. -They only awoke in my soul an evil obstinacy. My house burned down more -quickly than my wrath. For a long time I stood on the edge of the wood, -leaning against the trunk of a tree and haggled with God, while Olga's -white face, bathed in tears and drawn with pain, rose up before my -eyes. And I spoke to God boldly, as to one familiar:</p> - -<p>"Thou art strong. So will I be also. Thus it should be for justice' -sake."</p> - -<p>The fire was quenched and all became quiet and dark. Only a few flames -thrust their tongues out into the night, like the sobs of a child after -it has stopped crying.</p> - -<p>The night was cloudy and the river shone like a flaming sword which -some one had lost in the field. I could have clutched at this sword and -swung it high in the air to hear it ring over the earth.</p> - -<p>Toward midnight I reached the village. At the door of the house were -Olga and her father. They awaited me.</p> - -<p>"Where were you?" Titoff asked.</p> - -<p>"I stood on the hill and watched the fire."</p> - -<p>"Why didn't you come to put it out?"</p> - -<p>"Can I perform miracles? Would the fire have gone out if I had spat on -it?"</p> - -<p>Olga's eyes were swollen with tears and she was black with smoke and -soot. I laughed when I saw her.</p> - -<p>"You worked hard?" I asked.</p> - -<p>Her eyes filled with tears. Titoff said gloomily:</p> - -<p>"I don't know what will happen now."</p> - -<p>"You must begin the building anew," I said.</p> - -<p>Such wrath took possession of my soul then that I could have dragged -the logs myself and have begun building unaided, until the house should -be ready again. If it was not possible to go against the will of God, -it was at least possible to find out whether God was for me or against -me.</p> - -<p>And again the roguery began. What ruses and wiles I thought out! -Formerly I spent the nights in praying, but now I lay without sleep and -worried how I could put one more ruble into my pocket. I threw myself -entirely into these thoughts, although I knew how many tears flowed on -account of me; how many times I stole the bread from the mouths of -hungry ones; and how, perhaps, little children were starving to death -on account of my avarice. Now, at the memory of it, I feel abhorrence -and disgust and I laugh bitterly at my foolishness.</p> - -<p>The faces of the saints no longer looked down at me with pity and -goodness, as before. But instead they spied on me, as Olga's father -did. Once I even stole a half ruble from the office of the village -elder. So far had it gone with me.</p> - -<p>Once something special happened to me. Olga went up to me, put her -delicate arms on my shoulders, and said:</p> - -<p>"Matvei, as surely as God's alive, I love you more than anything in the -world."</p> - -<p>She spoke these holy words wonderfully simply, as a child would say, -"Mother." Like the hero in the fairy tale, I felt myself grow strong, -and from that hour she became indescribably dear to me. It was the -first time she had said she loved me, and it was the first time that -I had embraced her and kissed her, so that I lost myself in her and -forgot myself—as when I used to pray with all my heart.</p> - -<p>Toward October our house was finished. It looked like a plaid where the -logs showed blackened by the fire. Soon we celebrated the wedding, and -my father-in-law became duly drunk and laughed with a full throat, like -Satan at some success. My mother-in-law was silent and smiled at us -through her tears.</p> - -<p>"Stop crying!" Titoff roared at her. "What a son-in-law we have! Such a -righteous one!"</p> - -<p>Then he swore at her thoroughly.</p> - -<p>We had important guests—the priest was there, of course, and the land -commissioner, and two district elders, and various other pike among the -carp. The village people had assembled under our windows, and among -them Savelko made himself popular, for he was gay up to his last days. -I sat at the window and heard the jingling of his balalaika and his -thin voice pierced my ear. For though he was afraid to make his jokes -too loud, still I heard him sing distinctly:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Hurry and drink till you burst,<br /> -Eat yourself full till you split."<br /> -</p> - -<p>His jokes amused me, though I had something else to think about then. -Olga nestled up to me and whispered:</p> - -<p>"If only all this eating and drinking were over!"</p> - -<p>The gluttony went against her, and to me, too, the sight of it was -disgusting.</p> - -<p>When we were alone we burst into tears, sitting and embracing each -other on the bed; we wept and laughed together at our great unforeseen -happiness in our marriage. All night we did not sleep, but kissed each -other and planned how we would live with each other. We lit the candle -in order to see each other better.</p> - -<p>"We will live so that all will love us. It is good to be with you, -Matvei."</p> - -<p>We were drunk with our unutterable happiness, and I said to Olga:</p> - -<p>"May the Lord strike me dead, Olga, if on account of me you should weep -other tears."</p> - -<p>But she said to me:</p> - -<p>"I will bear everything from you. I will be your mother and your -sister, my lonely one."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></h4> - - -<p>We lived together in a dream. I worked automatically, saw nothing and -did not wish to see anything. I hurried home to my wife and walked with -her in the fields and in the woods.</p> - -<p>My past came back to me. I caught birds and our home became light and -airy with the cages which were hung on the walls and the singing of the -birds. My gentle wife loved them, and when I came home she told me how -the tomtit behaved and how the client-finch sang.</p> - -<p>In the evening I read Minea or the Prologue, but more often I spoke to -my wife of my childhood and of Larion and Savelko; how they sang songs -to the Lord and how they talked about Him. I told her about crazy old -Vlassi, who was dead by this time. I told her everything that I knew, -and it seemed that I knew very much about man and birds and fish. I -cannot describe my happiness in words, for a man who has never known -happiness and only enjoys it for a little time, never can describe it.</p> - -<p>We went together to church and stood next to each other in a corner -and prayed in unison. I offered prayers of thanks to God in order to -praise Him, though not without secret pride, for it seemed to me that -I had conquered God's might and forced Him, against His will, to make -me happy. He had given in to me and I praised Him for it:</p> - -<p>"Thou hast done well, O Lord," I said, "but it is only just and right, -what Thou hast done."</p> - -<p>Oh, the miserable paganism of it!</p> - -<p>The winter passed like one long day of joy. One day Olga confided to -me that she was to become a mother. It was a new happiness for us. My -father-in-law murmured something indistinctly and my mother-in-law -looked with pity at my wife.</p> - -<p>I began to think of bettering my condition a little; I decided to have -a beehive, and I called it "Larion's Garden," so that it should bring -me luck. Also, I planned to have a vegetable garden, and to breed -song-birds, and I thought of doing things which would bring no harm to -man. One day Titoff said to me, quite harshly:</p> - -<p>"You have become so sugar-coated, Matvei; see that you do not get sour. -You will have a child in the summer. Have you forgotten that?"</p> - -<p>I had already wished to tell him the truth as I understood it then, so -I said to him:</p> - -<p>"I have sinned as much as I wished. I have become like you in -sins—just as you desired. But to become worse than you, that I will -not."</p> - -<p>"I do not understand what you mean," he answered. "I only want to -explain to you that seventy-two rubles a year for a man and a family -is not much; and I will not permit you to squander my daughter's -dowry. You must consider things well. Your wisdom is in reality hatred -of me because I am more clever than you. But that will help neither you -nor me. Each one is a saint just so long as the devil doesn't catch -him."</p> - -<p>I could have beaten him well, but out of consideration for Olga I -restrained myself.</p> - -<p>In the village it was known that I did not get on well with my -father-in-law, and the people began to look at me in a friendlier way. -As for myself, happiness had made me more gentle, and Olga, too, was -mild and good of heart.</p> - -<p>In order to save the peasants from loss I began to give in to them here -and there; helped one and spoke up for another. The village is like a -glass house, where every one can look in, and so pretty soon Titoff -said to me:</p> - -<p>"You again wish to bribe God."</p> - -<p>I decided to drop my work in the office and said to my wife:</p> - -<p>"I earn six rubles a month, and with my birds I can make more."</p> - -<p>But the poor child became sad. "Do whatever you want," she answered, -"only let us not become beggars. I am sorry for my father," she added. -"He wanted to do the best by us, and has taken many sins upon his soul -for our sakes."</p> - -<p>"Ah, my dear one," I thought, "his well-wishing weighs heavily enough -on me."</p> - -<p>Some days later I told my father-in-law that I was going to leave the -office.</p> - -<p>"To become a soldier?" he asked, smiling ironically.</p> - -<p>I was hurt to the quick. I felt that he was ready to do anything -against me, and it would not be difficult for him to harm me, -considering who his acquaintances were. If I became a soldier I would -be lost. Even for the love he bore his daughter he would not save me.</p> - -<p>My hands became more and more tied. My wife wept in secret and went -about with red eyes.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter, Olga?" I asked her.</p> - -<p>And she answered: "I do not feel well."</p> - -<p>I remembered the oath I had made to her, and I became ashamed and -embarrassed. One step and my problem would be settled, but I pitied the -beloved woman. Had I not had Olga on my hands I would have even become -a soldier to get out of Titoff's clutches.</p> - -<p>Toward the end of June a son was born to us, and again for some time -I was as if dazed. The travail was difficult, Olga screamed, and my -heart almost burst with fear. Titoff looked into the room gloomily, -though most of the time he stood in the court and trembled. He leaned -against the staircase, wrung his hands, let his head hang and muttered -to himself:</p> - -<p>"She will die. My whole life was useless. O Lord, have mercy! When you -shall have children, Matvei, then you will know my pain and you will -understand my life; and you will cease to curse others for their sins."</p> - -<p>At this moment I really pitied him. I walked up and down the court and -thought:</p> - -<p>"Again Thou threatenest me, O Lord. Again Thy hand is raised against -me. Thou shouldst give me time to better myself and to find the -straight path. Why art Thou so miserly with Thy grace? Is it not in Thy -goodness that all Thy strength and power lie?"</p> - -<p>When I remember these words now I grow ashamed at my foolishness.</p> - -<p>My child was born and my wife became changed. Her voice was louder, -her body taller, and in her attitude toward me there was a change, -too. She counted every bite she gave me, although she was not exactly -stingy. She gave alms less and less often and always reminded me of the -peasants' debts to us. Even if it were only five rubles, she thought it -worth while to remind me of it. At first I thought, "that will pass."</p> - -<p>I became more and more interested in the breeding of my birds. I went -twice a month to town with my cages and brought five rubles or more -each time I returned. We had a cow and a dozen hens. What more did we -want?</p> - -<p>But Olga's eyes had an unpleasant light in them. When I brought her a -gift from town she reproached me:</p> - -<p>"Why did you do that? You should rather have saved the money."</p> - -<p>It was hard to bear, and in order to get over it, I worked the harder -among my birds. I went into the woods, laid the net and the snares, -stretched myself out on the ground, whistled low and thought. My soul -was quiet; not a wish stirred in me. A thought arose, moved my heart -and vanished again into the unknown, as a stone sinks into the sea. It -left ripples on my soul; they were feelings about God.</p> - -<p>At such times I looked upon the clear sky, the blue space, the woods -clothed in golden autumn garments or in silvery winter treasure, and -the river, the fields and the hills, the stars and the flowers, and saw -them as God. All that was beautiful was of God and all that was of God -was related to the soul.</p> - -<p>But when I thought of man, my heart started as a bird does when -frightened in its sleep. I was perplexed and I thought about life. I -could not unite the great beauty of God with the dark, poverty-stricken -life of man. The luminous God was somewhere far off, in His own -strength, in His own pride. And man, separated from Him, lived in -wretchedness and want.</p> - -<p>Why were the children of God sacrificed to misery and hunger—Why were -they lowered and dragged to the earth as worms in the mud? Why did God -permit it? How could it give Him joy to see this degradation of His own -work?</p> - -<p>Where was the man who saw God and His beauty? The soul of man is -blinded through the black misery of the day. To be satisfied is -considered a joy; to be rich a happiness. Man looks for the freedom to -sin; but to be free from sin, that is unknown to him. Where is there in -him the strength of fatherly love, where the beauty of God? Does God -exist? Where is the God-like?</p> - -<p>Suddenly I felt a hazy intuition, a slight thought. It encircled and -hid everything. My soul became empty and cold, like a field in winter. -At this time, I did not dare express my thoughts in words, but even -if they did not appear before me clothed in words, still I felt their -power and dreaded them, and was afraid, as a little child in a dark -cave. I jumped up, took my hunting traps with me, and hurried from the -house. To rid myself of my sickly fear, I sang as I hurried along.</p> - -<p>The people in the village laughed at me. A catcher of birds is not -especially respected in the country, and Olga sighed heavily many -times; for it seemed to her, too, that my occupation was something to -be ashamed of. My father-in-law gave me long lectures, but I did not -answer. I waited for autumn. Perhaps I would draw a lucky number and -not have to serve in the military, and so escape this terrible abyss.</p> - -<p>My wife became with child again, and her sadness increased.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter, Olga?" I asked.</p> - -<p>At first she evaded the question and made believe that nothing was -troubling her. But one day she embraced me and said:</p> - -<p>"I shall die, Matvei—I shall die in childbirth."</p> - -<p>I knew that women often talk thus, still I was frightened. I tried to -comfort her, but she would not listen to me.</p> - -<p>"You will remain alone again," she said, "beloved by none. You are so -difficult and so haughty toward all. I ask you for the sake of the -children, don't be so proud. We are all sinners, before God, and you -also."</p> - -<p>She spoke this way often to me, and I was wretched with pity and fear -for her.</p> - -<p>As to my father-in-law, I had made a sort of truce with him, and he -immediately made use of it in his own way:</p> - -<p>"Here, Matvei, sign this," or "Do not write that."</p> - -<p>Things were coming to a climax. We were, close to the recruiting time, -and a second child was soon expected. The recruits were making holiday -in the village. They called me out, but I refused to go, and they broke -my windows for me.</p> - -<p>The day came when I had to go to town to draw my lot. Olga was -already afraid at this time to leave the house, and my father-in-law -accompanied me and during the whole way he impressed it upon me what -trouble he had taken for me, how much money he had spent and how -everything had been arranged for my benefit.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps it is all in vain," I said.</p> - -<p>And so it was. My number came along the last, and I was free. Titoff -could hardly believe my luck and he laughed at me gloomily.</p> - -<p>"It seems really that God is with you."</p> - -<p>I did not answer, but I was unspeakably happy. My freedom meant -everything to me—everything that oppressed my soul. And above all, it -meant freedom from my dear father-in-law.</p> - -<p>At home Olga's joy was great. She wept and laughed, the dear one; -praised and caressed me as if I had killed a bear.</p> - -<p>"God be praised," she said; "now I can die in peace."</p> - -<p>I poked fun at her, but at the bottom of my heart I felt badly, for I -knew that she believed in her death—a ruinous belief, which destroys -the life force in man.</p> - -<p>Three days later her travail began. For two long days she suffered -horrible agony, and on the third day it was ended, after giving birth -to a still-born child—ended as she had believed, my dear, sweet one.</p> - -<p>I do not remember the burial, for I was as if blind and deaf for some -time afterward. It was Titoff who woke me. I was at Olga's grave, and -I can see him now as he stood before me and looked into my face, and -said:</p> - -<p>"So, Matvei, it is for the second time that we meet near the dead. Here -our friendship was born. Here it should be strengthened anew."</p> - -<p>I looked about me as if I had found myself on earth for the first -time. The rain drizzled, a mist surrounded everything, in which the -bare trees swayed and the crosses on the tombstones swam and vanished. -Everything looked dressed, garbed in cold, and in a piercing dampness -which was difficult to breathe, as if the rain and the mist had sucked -up all the air.</p> - -<p>"What do you want? Go away from here," I said to Titoff.</p> - -<p>"I want you to understand my pain. Perhaps because I hindered you from -living out your own life God has now punished me by taking away my -daughter."</p> - -<p>The earth under my feet was melting and turned into sticky mud, which -seemed to drag down my feet. I clutched him, threw him on the ground as -if he were a sack of bran.</p> - -<p>"Damn you!" I shouted.</p> - -<p>A mad, wild period began for me. I could not hold my head up. I was as -if struck down by some strong hand and lay stretched out powerless on -the ground. My heart was full of pain and I was outraged with God. I -looked up at the holy images and hurried away as fast as I could, for -I wanted to quarrel, not to repent. I knew that according to the law I -had to do penance and should have said:</p> - -<p>"Thy will be done, O Lord. Thy hand is heavy, but righteous; Thy wrath -is great yet beneficent."</p> - -<p>My conscience did not let me say such words. I remained standing, lost -in my thoughts, and was unable to find myself.</p> - -<p>"Has this blow fallen upon me," I thought, "because I doubted Thy -existence in secret?"</p> - -<p>This thought terrified me and I found excuses for myself:</p> - -<p>"It was not Thy existence that I doubted, but Thy mercy; for it seemed -to me that we are all abandoned by Thee without help and without -guidance."</p> - -<p>My soul was unbearably tortured; I could not sleep; I could do nothing. -At night dark shadows tried to strangle me. Olga appeared before me. My -heart was overcome with fear and I had no more strength to live.</p> - -<p>I decided to hang myself.</p> - -<p>It was night. I lay dressed on my bed. I glanced about me. I could see -my poor, innocent wife before me, her blue eyes shining with a quiet -light and calling me. The moon shone through the window and its bright -reflection lay upon the floor and only increased the darkness in my -soul.</p> - -<p>I jumped up, took the rope from my bird snare, hammered a nail into the -beam of the roof, made a noose and fixed the chair. I had already taken -off my coat and tom off my collar, when suddenly I saw a little face -appear indistinctly and mysteriously on the wall. I could have screamed -with fear, though I understood that it was my own face which looked -back at me from Olga's round mirror. I looked insane—so distracted and -wretched, with my hair wild, my cheeks sunken in, my nose sharp, my -mouth half open as with asthma, and my eyes agonized, full of a deep, -great pain.</p> - -<p>I pitied this human face; I pitied it for the beauty that had gone out -of it, and I sat down on the bench and wept over myself, as a child who -is hurt. After those tears the noose seemed something to be ashamed of, -like a joke against myself. And in wrath I tore it down and threw it -into the corner of the room. Death was also a riddle, but I had not yet -answered the riddle of life!</p> - -<p>What should I do? Some more days passed. It was as if I were seeking -peace. I must do penance, I thought, and I gritted my teeth and went to -the priest.</p> - -<p>I visited him one Sunday evening, just as he and his wife were at table -drinking tea. Four children sat around them. Drops of sweat shone on -the dark face of the priest, as scales on a fish.</p> - -<p>"Sit down," he said, good-naturedly, "and drink some tea with us."</p> - -<p>The room was warm and dry; everything was clean and in order. It -occurred to me how negligent this priest was in the performance of his -church duties, and the thought came to me, "This, then, is his church."</p> - -<p>I was not sufficiently humble.</p> - -<p>"Well, Matvei, you suffer?" the priest asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I answered.</p> - -<p>"Ah, then you must say the Forty-Day prayers. Does she appear in dreams -to you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Then only the Forty-Day prayer will help you. That is certain."</p> - -<p>I remained silent. I could not speak before the wife of the priest. I -did not like her. She was a large, stout, short-winded woman, with a -broad, fat face. She lent money on interest.</p> - -<p>"Pray earnestly," the priest said to me. "And do not eat your heart. It -is a sin against the Lord. He knows what He does."</p> - -<p>"Does He really know?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Certainly. Oh, oh, my young man, I know well that you are proud toward -people, but do not dare to carry your pride against the laws of God. -You will be punished a hundredfold more severely. This sour stuff which -ferments in you comes from the time of Larion, does it not? I know the -heresies which he committed when he was drunk—remember this!"</p> - -<p>Here the priest's wife interrupted:</p> - -<p>"They should have sent that Larion to a monastery, but the father was -too good and did not even complain about him."</p> - -<p>"That is not true," I answered. "He did complain, but not on account -of his opinions, but because of his negligence, for which the father -himself was to blame."</p> - -<p>We began to quarrel. First he reproached me for my insolence, and then -he began talking about things which I knew just as well as he, but the -meaning of which, in his anger, he changed. And then they both began, -he as well as his wife, to insult me.</p> - -<p>"You are both rascals," they cried, "you and your father-in-law! You -have robbed the church. The swampy field belonged to the church from -time immemorial, and that is why God has punished you."</p> - -<p>"You are right," I said. "The swampy field was taken from you unjustly. -But you yourself had taken it away from the peasants."</p> - -<p>I rose and wanted to go.</p> - -<p>"Stop!" cried the priest, "and the money for the Forty-Day prayer?"</p> - -<p>"It is not necessary," I answered.</p> - -<p>I went out and thought: "Here you have found comfort for your soul, -Matvei."</p> - -<p>Three days later, Sasha, my little son, died. He had mistaken arsenic -for sugar, and eaten it.</p> - -<p>His death made no impression on me. I had become cold and indifferent -to everything.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></h4> - - -<p>I decided to go to a town, where an arch-bishop lived—a pious, learned -man, who disputed continually with the Old Believers about the true -faith and was renowned for his wisdom. I told my father-in-law that I -was going away and that he could have my house and all that I possessed -for a hundred rubles.</p> - -<p>"No," he answered, "that is not the way to do business. You must sign -me a note for half a year for three hundred rubles."</p> - -<p>I signed it, ordered my passport and began my trip. I walked on foot, -for I thought that thus the confusion in my soul would subside. But -although I walked to do penance, still my thoughts were not with God. I -was afraid and angry with myself. My thoughts were distorted and they -fell apart like worn-out cloth. The sky was dark above me.</p> - -<p>With great difficulty I reached the Archbishop. A servant, a pretty, -delicate youngster, who received the visitors, would not let me enter. -Four times he sent me back, saying:</p> - -<p>"I am the secretary. You must give me three rubles."</p> - -<p>"I won't give you a three-kopeck piece," I said.</p> - -<p>"Then I won't let you in."</p> - -<p>"All right. Then I'll go in myself."</p> - -<p>He saw that I was determined not to give in to him.</p> - -<p>"Well, then, come in," he said. "I was only joking. You are a funny -fellow."</p> - -<p>He led me into a little room, where a gray old man sat coughing in a -corner of a divan, dressed in a green cassock. His face was wrinkled -and his eyes were very stern and set deep in his forehead.</p> - -<p>"Well," I thought, "he can tell me something."</p> - -<p>"What do you want?" he asked me.</p> - -<p>"My soul is troubled, father."</p> - -<p>The secretary stood behind me and whispered:</p> - -<p>"You must say 'your reverence.'"</p> - -<p>"Send the servant away," I said. "It is difficult for me to speak when -he is here."</p> - -<p>The Archbishop looked at me, bit his lip and ordered:</p> - -<p>"Go behind the door, Alexei. Well, what have you done?"</p> - -<p>"I doubt God's mercy," I answered.</p> - -<p>He put his hand on his forehead, looked at me for some time and then -muttered in a singing voice: "What? What's that? You fool!"</p> - -<p>There was no need to insult me, and perhaps he did not mean it in that -way. Our superiors insult people more out of habit and foolishness than -from ill will. I said to him:</p> - -<p>"Hear me, your reverence."</p> - -<p>I sat down on a chair. But the old man motioned with his hands and -shouted:</p> - -<p>"Stand up! Stand up! You should kneel before me, impious one!"</p> - -<p>"Why should I kneel? If I am guilty, I should kneel before God, not -before you."</p> - -<p>He became enraged. "Who am I? What am I to you? What am I to God?"</p> - -<p>I was ashamed to quarrel with him on account of a bagatelle, so I -knelt. He threatened me with his finger and said:</p> - -<p>"I will teach you to respect the clergy!"</p> - -<p>I lost my desire to talk with him, but still, before the desire had -entirety gone, I began to speak, and I forgot his presence. For the -first time in my life I expressed my thoughts in words, and I was -astonished at myself. Suddenly I heard the old man cry out:</p> - -<p>"Keep still, wretched one!"</p> - -<p>I felt as if I had suddenly come up against a wall while running. He -stood over me, shaking his hands threateningly at me, and muttered:</p> - -<p>"Do you know what you are saying, you crazy fool? Do you appreciate -your blasphemies, wretched one? You lie, heretic! You did not come to -do penance. You came as a messenger from the devil to tempt me!"</p> - -<p>I saw that it was not wrath, but fear that played in his face. He -trembled, and his beard and his hands, which were held out to me, were -shaking. I, too, was frightened.</p> - -<p>"What is your reverence saying?" I asked. "I believe in God."</p> - -<p>"You lie, you mad dog!"</p> - -<p>He threatened me with the wrath and the vengeance of God, but he spoke -in a low tone, and his whole body trembled so that his cassock flowed -like green waves. He placed before my spirit a threatening, gruesome -God, severe in countenance, wrathful in spirit, poor in mercy, and like -the old God Jehovah in sternness. I said to the archbishop:</p> - -<p>"Now you, yourself, have fallen into heresies. Is this then the -Christian God? Where have you hidden Christ? Why do you place before -man the stern Judge instead of the Friend and the Helper?" He clutched -my hair and shook me to and fro, saying, haltingly:</p> - -<p>"Who are you, crazy one? You should be brought to the police, to -prison, to a monastery, to Siberia!"</p> - -<p>I came to myself. It was clear to me that if man called in the police -to protect his God, then neither he nor his God could have much -strength, and much less beauty. I arose and said:</p> - -<p>"Let me go."</p> - -<p>The old man fell back and spoke breathlessly.</p> - -<p>"What are you going to do?"</p> - -<p>"I will go away, I can learn nothing here. Your words are dead and you -kill God with them."</p> - -<p>He began to speak about the police again; but it was all the same to -me. The police could not do anything worse than what he had already -done. "Angels serve for the glory of God, not the police," I said; "but -if your faith teaches you something else, then stick to your faith."</p> - -<p>His face became green, and he jumped at me. "Alexei," he called, "throw -him out!"</p> - -<p>And Alexei threw me out on the street with great vigor.</p> - -<p>It was evening. I had spent fully two hours talking with the old -archbishop. The streets were in semi-darkness, and the picture was not -joyful. Everywhere there were noisy crowds, talk and laughter. It was -holiday time, the feast of the Three Wise Men. Weakly I walked along -and looked into the faces of the people. They angered me and I felt -like shouting out to them:</p> - -<p>"Hey, you people, what are <i>you</i> so satisfied about? They are murdering -your God. Take care!"</p> - -<p>I walked along in my misery as one drunk, and did not know where I was -going. I did not want to go to my inn, for there there was noise and -drinking. I went out into the farthest suburb. Little houses stood -there, whose yellow windows looked out upon the fields, and the winds -played with the snow about them, and whistled and covered them up.</p> - -<p>I wanted to drink—to get very drunk; but alone, without people. I was -a stranger to all and was guilty before all. "I will cross this field," -I thought, "and see where it leads to."</p> - -<p>Suddenly a woman came out of a gate, dressed in a light dress and with -a shawl as her only protection against the cold. She looked into my -face and asked:</p> - -<p>"What is your name?"</p> - -<p>I understood that she was guessing her future husband.</p> - -<p>"I will not tell you my name. I am an unhappy man."</p> - -<p>"Unhappy?" she asked, laughing. "Now, in the holiday season?"</p> - -<p>I did not like her gaiety.</p> - -<p>"Is there no inn here in the neighborhood?" I asked. "I would like to -rest and warm myself a bit. It is cold."</p> - -<p>She looked at me searchingly and said in a friendly tone:</p> - -<p>"There, farther on, you will find an inn. But if you wish, you can come -to us and get a glass of tea."</p> - -<p>Indifferently and without thinking, I followed her. I came to the room. -On the wall in the comer burned a little lamp, and under the holy -images sat a stout old woman, chewing something. A samovar was on the -table; everything seemed cozy and warm.</p> - -<p>The woman asked me to sit down at the table. She was young, with red -cheeks and a high bosom. The old woman looked at me from her corner and -sniffed. She had a large, withered face, almost, it seemed, without -eyes.</p> - -<p>I was embarrassed. What was I doing here? Who were they? I asked the -young woman:</p> - -<p>"What do you do?"</p> - -<p>"I make lace."</p> - -<p>True. On the wall were hung bunches of bobbins. Suddenly she laughed -boldly and looked me straight in the face, and added:</p> - -<p>"And then, I walk some."</p> - -<p>The old woman laughed coarsely: "What a shameless hussy you are, Tanka!"</p> - -<p>Had the old woman not said that, I would not have understood Tatiana's -words. Now I knew what she meant, and became ill at ease. It was the -first time in my life I had seen a loose girl, near-to, and naturally I -did not think well of such women. Tatiana laughed.</p> - -<p>"See, Petrovna, he blushes," she said.</p> - -<p>I became angry. "And so I have fallen in here—from penance right into -sin," I thought. I said to the girl:</p> - -<p>"Does one boast of such an occupation?"</p> - -<p>She answered boldly: "I boast of it."</p> - -<p>The old woman began to sniff again: "Oh, Tatiana, Tatiana!"</p> - -<p>I did not know what to say or how to go away from them. No excuse came -to me.</p> - -<p>I sat there silent. The wind rattled on the windows, the samovar sang -and Tatiana began to tempt me.</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's hot," she said, and unbuttoned the collar of her waist.</p> - -<p>She had a pretty face and her eyes attracted me in spite of her -bold expression. The old woman put vodka on the table, a bottle of -"ordinary," and also some cherry brandy.</p> - -<p>"That's good," I thought to myself. "I will drink some, pay and then -go."</p> - -<p>"Why are you so miserable?" Tatiana asked suddenly.</p> - -<p>I could not restrain myself and answered:</p> - -<p>"My wife is dead."</p> - -<p>Then she asked very low: "When did she die?"</p> - -<p>"Only five weeks ago."</p> - -<p>The girl buttoned her waist and became more reserved. It pleased me. I -looked into her face and said to myself:</p> - -<p>"Thank you."</p> - -<p>Though my heart was heavy, yet I was young and was used to women. I had -two years of married life behind me. But the old woman said, gasping:</p> - -<p>"Your wife is dead—that is nothing much. You are young and there are -women enough. The streets are full of them."</p> - -<p>Here Tatiana said to her sternly:</p> - -<p>"Go to bed, Petrovna. I will escort our guest and will lock up."</p> - -<p>When the old woman was gone, she asked me earnestly and in a friendly -way:</p> - -<p>"Have you relatives?"</p> - -<p>"None."</p> - -<p>"And friends?"</p> - -<p>"No friends."</p> - -<p>"What are you going to do then?"</p> - -<p>"I do not know."</p> - -<p>She became thoughtful, stood up and said:</p> - -<p>"Listen. I see that you are in despair. I advise you, don't go out -alone. You followed me in here at my first word. You might have fallen -in somewhere where you could not get out so easily. Better remain here -over night. There is a bed here. Spend the night here, in heaven's -name. If you do not wish to do it for nothing, give something to -Petrovna—as much as you wish; and if I am in your way, then say so -frankly and I will go."</p> - -<p>I liked her words and also her eyes. I could not suppress a feeling of -joy and I said to' myself, smiling:</p> - -<p>"Oh, that archbishop!"</p> - -<p>"What archbishop?" Tatiana asked, surprised.</p> - -<p>I was confused and did not know what to say.</p> - -<p>"That is just an expression of mine," I answered. "That is, not really -an expression; only very often there is an archbishop who appears in my -dreams."</p> - -<p>"Well, good night," she said.</p> - -<p>"Not yet," I answered quickly. "Don't go away, I beg of you. Remain -here a little longer, if it is no trouble to you."</p> - -<p>She took her place again and smiled.</p> - -<p>"Very gladly. It is no trouble."</p> - -<p>She asked me if I would drink a glass of vodka or tea, and whether I -wished to eat. Her sincere friendliness brought the tears to my eyes, -and my heart became as happy as a bird on a spring morning when the sun -rises.</p> - -<p>"Excuse me for my plain words," I said, "but I would like to know if it -is true what you told me about yourself a little while ago? Or did you -wish to joke with me?"</p> - -<p>She frowned and answered: "Yes, I am one of them. Why do you ask?"</p> - -<p>"It is the first time in my life that I have seen such a girl, and I am -ashamed."</p> - -<p>"What are you ashamed of? I am not sitting naked." And she laughed low -and caressingly.</p> - -<p>"Not on your account," I answered. "I am ashamed on my own -account—because of my stupidity."</p> - -<p>And I told her frankly my opinion of her class of girls. She listened -quietly and attentively.</p> - -<p>"There are various kinds among us," she said. "There may be some who -are even worse than you think. You believe people altogether too -readily."</p> - -<p>I could not get the thought out of my head how such a girl could sell -herself, and I asked her again: "Do you do it from necessity?"</p> - -<p>"At first," she answered, "I was deceived by a handsome young fellow. -To spite him I got another one, and so I fell into the play. And now it -happens many times that I do it for the sake of a piece of bread."</p> - -<p>She said it quite simply and there was no pity for herself in her words.</p> - -<p>"Do you go to church?" I asked.</p> - -<p>She started and became red all over. "The way to the church is -forbidden to no one."</p> - -<p>I felt that I had offended her and added hurriedly:</p> - -<p>"You misunderstood me. I know the gospels; I know of Mary Magdalene and -of the sinner through whom the Pharisees tempted Christ. I only wished -to ask you whether you were not angered against God for the life that -you were leading; whether you did not doubt His goodness."</p> - -<p>She frowned again, remained thoughtful, and said, surprised:</p> - -<p>"I do not know what God has to do with it."</p> - -<p>"How then?" I asked. "Is He not our Shepherd and our Father in whose -mighty hand the destiny of man rests?"</p> - -<p>And she answered: "I do no harm to people. What am I guilty of? And -whom can it hurt that I lead an unclean life? Only myself."</p> - -<p>I felt that she wished to say something good and true, but I could not -understand her.</p> - -<p>"I alone am responsible for my sins," she said, bowing to me and her -whole face lighting up in a smile. "Besides, my sins do not appear so -great. Perhaps what I am saying is not quite right, but I am speaking -the truth. I go to church gladly. Our church has just been built, and -it is so bright and sweet. And how our choir sings! Sometimes they -touch the heart, so that I must weep. In the church the soul gets a -rest from all worries."</p> - -<p>She remained silent for some time, and then added:</p> - -<p>"Of course, there are other reasons. The men see you there."</p> - -<p>I was so astounded by what she said that she told me I had drops of -sweat standing on my temples. I could not understand how all these -things came together in her so simply and harmoniously.</p> - -<p>"Did you love your wife very much?" she asked me.</p> - -<p>"Yes, very much," I answered, and her naïveté? pleased me more and more.</p> - -<p>I began to tell her of my spiritual state, of my wrath against God, -because he did not hold me back from sins and then unjustly punished me -by the death of Olga. She became now pale and depressed, now red all -over with eyes on fire, so that she excited me. For the first time in -my life I let my thoughts sweep over the whole circle of human life as -I saw it, and it appeared to me as something incoherent and wasteful, -shameful in its evil and helplessness, its groaning and moaning and -wailing.</p> - -<p>"Where are the Godlike?" I asked. "People sit on each other's backs, -suck each other's blood, and everywhere there is the brutal struggle -for a piece of bread. Where is there room for the Godlike? Where is -there room for goodness and love, strength and beauty? Although I am -young, I was not born blind. Who is Christ, the God-child? Who has -trampled the flowers which His pure heart has sown? Who has stolen the -wisdom of His love?"</p> - -<p>I told her of the archbishop and how he had threatened me with his -black God and how he, to protect his God, wanted to call in the police -to help him.</p> - -<p>Tatiana laughed. I, too, found the archbishop quite laughable now. He -looked to me like a green grasshopper who chirps and jumps about as -if he were doing something, heaven knows how important, but when one -examines more closely, then one sees that he himself does not believe -in the truth of his work.</p> - -<p>She laughed at my words. Then the brow of the good girl became clouded.</p> - -<p>"I did not understand everything," she said. "Still, some of the things -you said were terrible. You think so boldly about God."</p> - -<p>"One cannot live without seeing God," I said.</p> - -<p>"True," she answered. "But you seem to be having a hand-to-hand fight -with Him. Is that allowed? That the life of man is difficult is true -enough. I myself have thought at times, 'Why should it be?' But listen -to what I am going to tell you. Right here in the neighborhood is a -nunnery where a hermitess, a very wise old woman, lives. She speaks -beautifully about God. You ought to visit her."</p> - -<p>"Why not?" I asked. "I will go to her. I am going everywhere—to all -righteous people, to seek peace."</p> - -<p>"And I will go to sleep," she said, giving me her hand. "You, too, go -to bed."</p> - -<p>I pressed her hand, shook it warmly, and said to her from the fulness -of my heart:</p> - -<p>"I thank you; what you have given me I do not yet know how to value, -still I feel that you are a good girl, and I thank you."</p> - -<p>"For heaven's sake, what are you saying?" she asked. She became -embarrassed and blushed all over. "I am so glad," she went on, "that -you feel better."</p> - -<p>I saw that she was truly pleased. What was I to her? And yet, she was -happy for having made a stranger feel better.</p> - -<p>I put out the lamp, lay down on the bed, and said to myself:</p> - -<p>"I fell into a real holiday celebration quite unexpectedly."</p> - -<p>Though my heart was not much lighter, nevertheless I felt that -something new and good was born within me. I saw Tatiana's eyes, which -now looked enticingly, now earnestly, but from which there spoke more -of the human heart than of the woman, and I thought of her in pure joy. -And to think so about any one—is it not to make holiday?</p> - -<p>I decided that to-morrow I would buy her a gold ring with a blue stone, -but later I forgot about it. Thirteen years have passed since that day, -and when I think of the girl I always regret that I did not buy her -the ring.</p> - -<p>In the morning she knocked on the door.</p> - -<p>"Time to get up."</p> - -<p>We met as old friends and sat down to drink tea together. She urged me -to go to the hermitess and I promised to do so. Saying farewell to each -other heartily, we went together as far as the gate.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></h4> - - -<p>I felt as alone in the city as in the wide steppes.</p> - -<p>There were thirty-three versts to the monastery, and I immediately -started on my way to it and on the next day I said early mass there.</p> - -<p>Around me were nuns, a whole black crowd, as if a mountain had fallen -apart and its broken pieces were lying about in the church.</p> - -<p>The monastery was rich. There were many sisters, all rather heavy, -with fat, white, soft faces, as if made of dough. The priest said mass -energetically, but a little too hurriedly. He had a good bass, was -large and broad and seemed well fed.</p> - -<p>The nuns in the choir were every one of them pretty, and sang -wonderfully. The tapers wept their white tears and their flames -trembled with pity for men.</p> - -<p>"My soul struggles to reach Thy temple, Thy holy temple," their young -voices sang out humbly.</p> - -<p>Out of habit I repeated the words of the litany, but my eyes wandered -and I tried to pick out the hermitess. There was no reverence in my -heart, and it hurt me to admit it, for I had not come here to play. My -soul was empty and I tried to collect myself. Everything in me was -confused and my thoughts wandered, one after the other. I saw a few -emaciated faces, half-dead old women, who stared at the holy images and -whose lips moved but made no sound.</p> - -<p>After mass I walked around the church. The day was bright and the -white snow reflected the glistening rays of the sun, while on the -branches the tit-mice piped and sent the hoar-frost from the twigs. I -walked to the churchyard wall and looked out into the distance. The -monastery stood on the mountain, and before it Mother Earth was spread -out, richly dressed in its silvery blue snow. The little villages on -the horizon looked sad, the wood was cut through by streams, and the -pathways wound in and out like ribbons which some one had lost. Over -all, the sun sent its slanting winter rays and stillness, peace and -beauty were everywhere.</p> - -<p>A little later I stood in the cell of Mother Fevronia. I saw a little -old woman with browless eyes, who wept constantly. On her face, with -its myriad wrinkles, a good-natured, unchanging smile trembled. She -spoke low, almost in a whisper, and in a singsong tone.</p> - -<p>"Do not eat apples before the day of the Lord. Wait till the Lord in -His love has made them ripe; until the seeds are black."</p> - -<p>"What does she mean by that?" I thought to myself.</p> - -<p>"Respect your father and mother," she continued. "I have no father or -mother," I said.</p> - -<p>"Then pray for the peace of their souls."</p> - -<p>"Maybe they are still alive."</p> - -<p>She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at me with a pitying -smile. Then again she began shaking her head and continued in her -singsong:</p> - -<p>"The Lord God is good; He is righteous toward all and covers all with -His rich bounty."</p> - -<p>"That is just what I doubt," I said.</p> - -<p>I saw that she started, her arms sank, and she remained silent, while -her eyes continued to sparkle. Then she controlled herself and sang on, -quite low:</p> - -<p>"Remember that prayers have wings which fly even faster than birds and -reach the throne of the Lord. No one has yet entered heaven on his own -horse."</p> - -<p>This much I understood: that she represented God to herself as some -noble lord, good natured and lovable, but still, according to her -opinion, bound by no law. She expressed all her thoughts in allegories -which, to my disappointment, I could not understand. I bowed and went -my way.</p> - -<p>"Here they have broken the Lord God into many pieces," I thought to -myself, "each one to his own need. One makes Him good-natured, the -other stern and dark. And the priests have hired Him as their clerk and -pay Him with the smoke of incense for His support. Only Larion had an -infinite God."</p> - -<p>Several nuns passed me, drawing a sleigh full of snow, and tittered. -My heart was heavy and I did not know what to do. I went out from -the gate. All without was still. The snow sparkled and shone, the -frost-covered trees stood motionless, and heaven and earth seemed sunk -in thought and looked in a friendly manner at the quiet monastery. A -fear arose in me lest I break this stillness with my cries.</p> - -<p>The bells called to vespers—what sweet chimes! They were soft and -coaxing, but I had no desire to enter the church. I felt as if my head -were full of sharp little nails. Suddenly I made the resolution:</p> - -<p>"I shall enter a monastery with severe regulations. There I shall live -alone in a solitary cell; will reflect and read books, and perhaps I -shall in this loneliness become the master of my scattered soul."</p> - -<p>A week later I found myself before the Abbot of the small monastery of -Sabateieff. I liked the Abbot. He was a good-looking man, gray headed -and bald, with red, firm cheeks and a promising look in his eyes.</p> - -<p>"Why do you flee the world, my son?" he asked me.</p> - -<p>I explained to him that the death of Olga disturbed the peace of my -soul, but further I did not dare say anything. Something seemed to hold -me back from speaking.</p> - -<p>He pulled at his beard, looked at me searchingly and said:</p> - -<p>"Can you pay the initiation fee?"</p> - -<p>"I have about a hundred rubles with me."</p> - -<p>"Give them to me. Now go into the guest room. To-morrow, after the -noonday service, I will speak to you."</p> - -<p>The care of strangers fell to the lot of Father Nifont, and him, too, I -liked.</p> - -<p>"Everything is very simple in our monastery," he said. "It is -democratic. We all work equally in serving God, not as in other places. -True, we have a gentleman here, but he does not mix with any one or -bother us in any way. You can find peace and rest for your soul here -and attain blessedness."</p> - -<p>By the following day I had examined the monastery well. In former times -it must have stood in the center of the wood, but now everything around -it was hewn down. Only here and there in front of the gates a few tree -trunks stood out from the ground. Toward the side the wood reached up -to the very walls of the monastery and embraced, as with two black -wings, the blue-domed church and the monastery. Nearby lay Blue Lake -under its ice cover, formed like a half moon. It was nine versts from -end to end and four versts wide. Behind it one could see the land on -the other side, and the three churches of Kudejaroff, and the golden -cupola of St. Nicholas of Tolokontzeff. On our side of the lake, not -far from the monastery, was the hamlet of Kudejaroff, with its three -and twenty little huts, and around it lay the mighty forests.</p> - -<p>All was beautiful, and a quiet peace filled my soul. Here I would hold -communion with the Lord; would unfold before Him my innermost soul, -and would ask Him with humble insistence to show me the way to the -knowledge of His holy laws.</p> - -<p>In the evening I attended vespers. The mass was said severely and -according to rule, and with ardor. But the singing did not please me; -good voices were lacking.</p> - -<p>"O Lord, forgive me if my thoughts about Thee were too bold," I prayed. -"I did not do it out of lack of faith, but because of love and passion -for the truth, as you know, O Omniscient One!"</p> - -<p>Suddenly the monk who stood near me turned and smiled at me. Evidently -I had spoken my repentant words too loud. As he smiled I looked at -him. Such a handsome face! I let my head sink and closed my eyes. -Never, either before or since, have I seen so handsome a face. I -stepped lightly forward, placed myself next to him and looked into his -wonderful countenance. It was as white as milk and framed in a black -beard sprinkled here and there with gray. His eyes were large, and they -had a soft mellow light and a bright expression. His figure was well -built and tall; his nose a little bent like an eagle's, and his whole -bearing was distinguished and noble. He made so deep an impression on -me that even at night he stood before me in my dreams.</p> - -<p>Early in the morning Father Nifont woke me.</p> - -<p>"The Abbot has assigned you some test work. Go to the bakery. This -worthy brother here will take you there. He will be your superior in -the future. Here, take your cloistral robes."</p> - -<p>I put on a monk's garb. They fitted me well, but were worn and dirty -and the sole from one boot was loose.</p> - -<p>I looked at my superior. He was broad-shouldered and awkward, with his -forehead and cheeks full of pimples and pockmarks, from which sprouted -little bunches of gray hair; his whole face looked as if it were -covered with sheep's wool; he would have been laughable were it not -for the deep folds on his forehead, his compressed lip and his little, -dark, blinking eyes.</p> - -<p>"Hurry up!" he said to me.</p> - -<p>His voice was harsh and cracked, like a broken bell.</p> - -<p>"This is Brother Misha." Father Nifont introduced him, smiling. "Well, -go, and God be with you."</p> - -<p>We walked out into the court. It was dark. Misha stumbled over -something and swore horribly. Then he asked me:</p> - -<p>"Can you knead dough?"</p> - -<p>"I have seen the women knead," I answered.</p> - -<p>"Women!" he muttered. "You're always thinking about women! Always -women! On account of them the world is accursed, don't you forget that!"</p> - -<p>"The mother of God was a woman," I said.</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"And also there are very many virtuous women."</p> - -<p>"If you speak like that the devil will surely drag you to hell."</p> - -<p>"Anyway, he is a serious man," I thought to myself.</p> - -<p>We arrived at the bakery and he made the fire. There were two large -kneading troughs covered with sacks, a large flour bin nearby, a big -sack of rye and a bag of wheat. Everything was dirty and filthy, and -cobwebs and gray dust lay over all. Misha tore the sack off from one of -the troughs, threw it on the earth, and commanded:</p> - -<p>"Well, come and learn! Here is the dough. Do you see those bubbles? -That means it is ready—it has already risen."</p> - -<p>He took a sack of flour as if it were a three-year-old youngster, bent -it over the edge of the trough, cut it open with his knife and cried as -though at a fire:</p> - -<p>"Pour four pails of water here and then knead!"</p> - -<p>He was white like a tree with hoarfrost.</p> - -<p>I threw off my cassock and rolled up my sleeves. He shouted:</p> - -<p>"Not that way! Take off your trousers! With your feet!"</p> - -<p>"I haven't taken a bath for a long time," I said.</p> - -<p>"Who asked you about that?"</p> - -<p>"How can I, then, with dirty feet?"</p> - -<p>"Am I your pupil," he roared, "or are you mine?"</p> - -<p>He had a large mouth, and strong, broad teeth, and long arms, which he -waved angrily in the air.</p> - -<p>"Well," I thought, "the devil take you; I don't care."</p> - -<p>I wiped my feet with a wet cloth, stepped into the kneading trough and -began to work the dough, while my teacher ran here and there, grumbling.</p> - -<p>"I will teach you to bend, my little mother's son. I will teach you -humility and obedience!"</p> - -<p>I kneaded one trough, began another, and when that was done, started on -the wheat, which is kneaded with the hands. I was a strong fellow, but -was not used to the work. The flour filled my nose, my mouth, my ears -and eyes, so that I became deaf and blind; and the sweat kept dropping -from my forehead into the dough.</p> - -<p>"Haven't you a piece of cloth," I asked, "to wipe the sweat off?"</p> - -<p>Misha became raging mad. "We will get you velvet towels. The monastery -has been standing 230 years, and has only been waiting for your new -orders."</p> - -<p>I had to laugh, unwillingly. "I am not kneading the dough for myself," -I said. "There are others who have to eat the bread."</p> - -<p>He walked up to me, bristling like a porcupine and every part of him -trembling.</p> - -<p>"Take a sack and wipe yourself, if you are so tender. But I will tell -the Abbot about your impudence."</p> - -<p>I was so surprised at this man that I could not be angry at him. He -worked unceasingly, and the heavy two-hundred sacks were like little -pillows in his hands. He was covered with flour, grumbled, swore and -urged me on continually.</p> - -<p>"Hurry! Hurry!"</p> - -<p>I hurried till my head swam.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></h4> - - -<p>The first days of my cloistral novitiate were not easy. The bakery was -in the cellar under the refectory; the ceiling was low and vaulted, and -its one window was nailed tightly. The air was suffocating. The dust -from the flour hung in the cellar like a thick mist, in which Misha -trotted back and forth like a bear on a chain. The flame in the oven -burned unclearly; it was a nightmare, not work.</p> - -<p>Only we two were down there, for it was seldom that any one was sent as -a punishment to help us.</p> - -<p>There was no time even to attend religious services.</p> - -<p>Day after day Misha preached his sermon to me, and I felt as if I were -being bound with stout ropes. He was all aflame and burned with wrath -against the world, while I breathed in his words and I felt that my -inmost heart was covered with soot.</p> - -<p>"You have nothing more to do with man," he said. "They continue to -commit sins out there in the world, but you have left the world -forever. If you separated from it with your body, then you must also -flee it in spirit. You must forget it. If you think of man, you think -unwillingly of woman. And through woman the world has sunk into -darkness and sin and is bound eternally."</p> - -<p>I wanted to say something, but no sooner did I open my mouth than he -shouted at me:</p> - -<p>"Keep still! Listen attentively to what an experienced man has to say, -and respect your elders! I know you were going to blab something about -the mother of God again. But it was just on account of her that Christ -died on the crucifix—because He was born of woman, and did not descend -holy and pure from heaven. He was altogether too good to that nasty -woman all his life, and he should have pushed the Samaritan into the -well instead of conversing with her. And He should have been the first -to throw a stone at the sinner. Then the world would have been free."</p> - -<p>"That is not a church thought," I said.</p> - -<p>"Again I tell <i>you</i>, keep still. The church is entirely in the hands -of a pale clergy, who are slaves to all sorts of debauchery and who -themselves go around in silk clothes like women in petticoats. They are -all heretics. They should dance quadrilles, not dictate religious laws. -Moreover, is it possible for a man with a wife to think upon God-like -things with a pure heart? No, he cannot, for he is committing the -terrible sin on account of which the Lord drove him out of the Garden -of Eden. And because of this sin we are damned to eternal punishment; -sentenced to howl and to gnash our teeth, and we are blinded by it so -that we cannot see the countenance of God from one eternity to another. -The clergy themselves help spread this sin, for they have children with -women and encourage the world to follow their bad example. And thus -they change all the laws of God to justify their violations of them."</p> - -<p>This man made me feel as if I were surrounded by a stone wall, which -came closer and closer around me. He brought the roof of the cellar -sinking upon my head. I was oppressed and stifled by the dust of his -words.</p> - -<p>"But," I said, "did not the Lord say, 'Multiply and increase'?"</p> - -<p>Here my superior became blue in the face, stamped his feet on the -ground, and roared like a beast:</p> - -<p>"He said! He said! How do you know what he meant by it, you blockhead? -He said: 'Be fruitful and multiply and people the earth. I leave to you -the power of Satan, and may you be damned now, and forever and through -all eternity.' That is what he said. And these cursed debauchees who -call themselves the servants of God turned these words into a law of -God. Do you understand their deceit and their vileness?"</p> - -<p>He fell on me like a mountain which crushed me and darkened everything -about me. I could not believe him, yet I could not contradict his -bigotry, and he confused me by the violence of his attacks. If I quoted -a passage from the Scriptures he quoted three others and disarmed me. -The Scriptures are like a field of many-colored flowers. If you desire -red flowers you can find red ones; if white, they, too, are to be had.</p> - -<p>I remained silent, oppressed by his torrent of words, while he -triumphed and his eyes glowed like a wolf's. And all the time we toiled -hard at our work. I kneaded and he rolled the dough, pushed the loaves -into the oven, and took them out when they were ready. But I had to put -them on the shelves, which burned my hands.</p> - -<p>I was all sticky with dough and covered with flour; I was blind and -deaf and did not understand from sheer weariness what was said to me.</p> - -<p>Sometimes the monks came to visit us, said something mockingly and -laughed. Misha barked at them all angrily, and drove them out of the -bakery, and I felt scorched. I was wretched, for I did not like this -being together with Misha, whom I not only did not love, but even -feared. Many times he asked me:</p> - -<p>"Do you see naked women in your dreams?"</p> - -<p>"No," I answered, "never."</p> - -<p>"You're lying! Why do you lie?"</p> - -<p>He became enraged, showed his teeth and threatened me with his fist.</p> - -<p>"You're a liar and a rascal," he shouted.</p> - -<p>I was only astonished. What is he saying there about naked women? A man -works from three o'clock in the morning till ten at night and then lies -down to sleep with bones aching like a beggar's in winter—and he talks -of women. Such were my thoughts.</p> - -<p>Once I went into the ante-room for yeast. It was a dark room in the -cellar, opposite the bakery. I found the door unlocked and a lantern -burning. I opened the door and saw Misha crawling on the ground on his -stomach, and crying out:</p> - -<p>"Send them away, I implore Thee, Lord! Send them away! Deliver me!"</p> - -<p>Of course, I immediately went out, but I could not guess what it was -about.</p> - -<p>He always spoke hatefully and insultingly about women, called all -womankind vulgar and in real peasant fashion spat at them, clutching -the air with his fingers as if in his mind's eye he were tearing and -pulling a woman's body apart.</p> - -<p>I could not bear to hear him talk. I remembered my own wife and our -happy tears the first night of our marriage, and the quiet, inner -wonder with each other, and our great joy. Is it not Thy sweet gift to -man, O Lord? I remembered Tatiana's good heart and her simplicity, and -I was hurt to tears for womankind. I thought to myself:</p> - -<p>"When the Abbot will call me for an interview, I shall tell him -everything."</p> - -<p>But he did not call me. The days passed one after another, like blind -people in a wood along a narrow path, each one stumbling upon the -other, and still the Abbot did not call me. Darkness was within me. At -that time, in my twenty-second year, my first gray hair came.</p> - -<p>I wanted to speak with the handsome monk, but I saw him rarely and only -for an instant. Now and then his proud countenance came before me and -then vanished and my longing for him followed him like an invisible -shadow. I asked Misha about him.</p> - -<p>"Oh," Misha cried, "that one! That animal! He was sent away from the -military for gambling in cards and from the seminary for his scandals -with women. A learned one, yes! He fell into the seminary from the -military, cheated all the monks in the monastery of Chudoff; then came -here, bought himself in with seven and a half thousand rubles, donated -land and so won great respect. Here, too; they play cards. The Abbot, -the steward and the treasurer, they all play with him. There is a girl -who visits him—oh, the pigs! He has a separate apartment, and there he -lives just as he pleases. The great filth of it!"</p> - -<p>I did not believe him; I could not. One day I asked the steward, Father -Isador, to help me gain an interview with the Abbot.</p> - -<p>"An interview about what?"</p> - -<p>"About faith."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean, 'about faith'?"</p> - -<p>"I have various questions."</p> - -<p>He looked me over from head to toe. He was a head taller than I, thin, -angular, with wise, smiling eyes, a long, crooked nose and a pointed -beard.</p> - -<p>"Speak plainly; your flesh masters you?"</p> - -<p>Always of the flesh! Though I did not want to, nevertheless I told him -of some of my doubts in a few words. He frowned, then smiled.</p> - -<p>"For this, my son, you should pray. By means of prayer you can heal the -suffering of your soul. Still, in consideration of your love for labor, -and because your request is so unusual, I will place the matter before -the Abbot. Wait."</p> - -<p>The word "unusual" surprised me. I felt that the expression was -frivolous and there was hostility in it toward me.</p> - -<p>Then I was summoned to come before the Father Abbot, and he looked at -me sternly as I bowed before him. He said in a tone of authority:</p> - -<p>"Father Isador told me of your desire to discuss the faith with me."</p> - -<p>"I did not mean to argue," I said.</p> - -<p>"Do not interrupt the speech of your elders. Every discussion which two -people have about a subject is an argument, and every question is a -seducer of thought, unless, of course, it is a subject which concerns -itself with the daily life of the brotherhood—: some commonplace -subject. Here we have a working community. We work to subjugate the -flesh, so that the soul, which lives in it temporarily, may devote -itself wholly to the Lord, and thus pray and receive His mercy for the -sins of the world. Our lot is not to gain cleverness, but to work. -Cleverness is not necessary to us, only simplicity of soul.</p> - -<p>"Your discussions with Brother Misha are known to me, and I cannot -approve of them. Limit the boldness of your thought so that you do not -fall into temptation, for the aimless thoughts which are not bound -down by faith are the keenest weapons of the devil. The mind comes -from the flesh; bold thoughts from the devil; but the strength of the -soul is a part of the spirit of God, and open-heartedness is given the -righteous through meditation.</p> - -<p>"Brother Misha, your superior, is a strict monk, a true ascetic and -brother, beloved by all for his work. I will punish you with a penance. -After your day's labor is done read the Acathistus to Christ at the -altar on the left in front of the Crucifixion, three times during the -night, for ten successive nights.</p> - -<p>"Added to this, you will also have to have interviews with the penance -monk, Mardarie. The time and the number will be told you later.</p> - -<p>"You were a clerk on an estate, were you not? Go in peace. I will think -about you. It seems that you have no relatives on this earth. Well, go, -I will pray for you. We will hope for the best."</p> - -<p>I returned to the bakery and began to weigh his words in my mind. That -was easily done. Perhaps the mind does become scattered in its search. -Still, to live like a sheep is hardly worthy nor right for man. At -that time I understood "meditation in prayer" as a sinking into the -depths of my own soul, where all the roots lay, and from which thoughts -strove to grow upward, as fruit trees. I could not find anything in my -soul which was hostile or not to be understood. All that was not to -be understood I felt was in God, and all that was hostile was in the -world—that is—outside of me.</p> - -<p>That the brothers loved Misha I knew to be absolutely untrue, for -although I kept myself apart from all and did not mix in their -conversations, still I noticed everything and saw that the vested monks -as well as the novices disliked Misha and feared him and abhorred him.</p> - -<p>I saw also that the monastery was laid out on a purely business basis. -They sold wood, they rented land to peasants and the right to fish on -the lake; they had a mill, vegetable gardens, large orchards, and sold -apples, berries and cabbages. Seventy horses stood in the stables, and -the brotherhood was composed of a little over fifty men, all strong and -hard workers. There were a few old men—only for parade—to show off -before the pilgrims. The monks drank wine and mixed much with women. -The young ones spent their nights in the village; and women came to the -cells of the older ones, ostensibly to wash the floors; and of course -the pilgrims were made use of also.</p> - -<p>But all this was not my affair and I could not judge them. I saw no sin -in it, only a disgusting lie.</p> - -<p>Many novices came to the monastery, but the tests were so difficult -that they could not endure them and deserted. During the two years that -I spent in this holy place, eleven brothers escaped. They remained one -or two months and fled. It seemed the life in the monastery was too -difficult.</p> - -<p>For the pilgrims who came to the monastery there were, of course, all -kinds of attractions. There were the chains of the deceased pious -brother Joseph, which were a cure for rheumatism, and his little cap -which, when put on the head, cured headaches. And there was a very cold -spring in the wood, whose water was good for sickness in general. An -image of the Assumption of the Virgin contained all kinds of wonders -for believers, and the pious penance brother, Mardarie, could foretell -the future and comfort the unhappy. Everything was as it should be, and -in the spring, in the month of May, the people streamed here in crowds.</p> - -<p>After my conversation with the Abbot, I wanted to find another -monastery, which would be simpler and where I need not work so hard, -and where the monks would stand nearer to their real task—the -understanding of the sins of this world. But several things happened -which kept me back.</p> - -<p>One day I made the acquaintance of a novice named Grisha, who was -employed in the office of the monastery. I had noticed him before. He -walked quickly and noisily among the brothers, wore smoked glasses, had -an insignificant face, an under-sized body, and walked with his head -bent forward, as if he wanted to see nothing but his own path.</p> - -<p>The day after my conversation with the Abbot, Grisha came into the -bakery. Misha had just gone to the brother treasurer to give his -accounts. Grisha came in, greeted me low, and asked:</p> - -<p>"You were at the Abbot's, brother?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Did you talk with him?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"He sent you away?"</p> - -<p>"Why should he?"</p> - -<p>Grisha fixed his glasses, became confused and said.</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, in Christ's name."</p> - -<p>"Did he ever send you away?" I asked.</p> - -<p>He nodded affirmatively and sat down on the edge of the flour bin, -bent forward, coughed dryly and beat the bin with a hook while I told -him what the Abbot had said to me. Suddenly he jumped up, straightened -to his full height as if on springs, and began to speak in his loud, -plaintive, excited voice:</p> - -<p>"Why do they call this a place for the salvation of the soul when -everything here is based upon money; when we live here for money, -just as in the world outside? I fled to save myself from the sin of -business, and again I fell upon business here. Where shall I flee now?"</p> - -<p>His whole body trembled, and he told me quickly the history of his -life. He was the son of a merchant who owned a bakery, had graduated -from a school of commerce, and was placed by his father in his business.</p> - -<p>"Were it some little nonsense," he said, "then, perhaps, I could deal -in it. But with bread it was unpleasant and shameful to me. Bread is -indispensable to all. One should not own it to make it the means of -trade for human need. Perhaps my father would have broken me had his -avarice not broken him. I had a sister, an academy student, gay and -proud, who read books and was friendly with all the students. Suddenly -my father said to her:</p> - -<p>"Stop your studying, Elizabeth. I have found a husband for you."</p> - -<p>'I don't want him,' she answered.</p> - -<p>"But my father pulled her hair until my little sister gave in. The -bridegroom was the-son of a rich tea merchant—a cross-eyed, large -man, vulgar and continually boasting of his wealth. Liza, next to him, -looked like a mouse next to a dog. He disgusted her. But my father said:</p> - -<p>"'You fool, he has shops in many cities on the Volga.'</p> - -<p>"Well, they were married, and during the wedding supper she went to her -room and shot herself in the breast. I found her still living, and she -said to me:</p> - -<p>"'Good-by, Grisha. I want to live very much, but it is impossible! It -is terrible! I can't! I can't!'" I remember that he talked very, very -fast, as if he were running away from the past, while I listened and -looked at the stove. Its brow was before me and it looked like some -ancient and blind face whose black mouth licked with flames ate up -the whistling and hissing wood. I saw Grisha's sister in the fire and -thought bitterly:</p> - -<p>"Why do people violate and destroy one another?"</p> - -<p>Grisha's thick words fell one upon the other like dry leaves in autumn:</p> - -<p>"My father almost went out of his senses. He stamped his feet and -cried: 'She has insulted her parents! Her soul is lost.' Only after the -burial, when he saw that all of Kazan followed Liza's body and laid -wreaths upon her tomb, did he come to himself. 'If all the people are -for her,' he said, 'it means that I behaved like a scoundrel toward my -child!'"</p> - -<p>Grisha wept and dried his glasses, and his hands trembled.</p> - -<p>"Even before this misfortune befell us I wanted to enter a monastery, -and I had said to my father:</p> - -<p>"'Let me.'</p> - -<p>"But he swore at me and beat me. Nevertheless, I said firmly:</p> - -<p>"'I will not do business. Let me go.'</p> - -<p>"He was frightened by Liza's death, and gave me freedom, and now, in -these four years, I have lived in three monasteries, and everywhere -there is barter, and I have no place for my soul. They sell God's earth -and God's word, His honey and His miracles. I cannot stand it any -longer!"</p> - -<p>His story awoke my soul again, for I did little thinking while I lived -in the monastery. I was so worn out by my labors, that <i>my</i> rebellious -thought slumbered. Suddenly his words woke me. I asked Grisha:</p> - -<p>"Where, then, is our God? There is nothing around us but the arbitrary -and mad foolishness of man; nothing but the petty deceptions from which -misfortunes arise. Where, then, is God?"</p> - -<p>But here Misha appeared and drove us out. From that day Grisha came -to me often, and I told him my thoughts, which horrified him, and he -counseled humility:</p> - -<p>"But why do people suffer so?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"For their sins," he answered.</p> - -<p>To him everything came from the hands of God—famine, fire, violent -death and floods—everything.</p> - -<p>"Can it be that God is the sower of misfortune on earth?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Remember Job, insane one," he whispered to me.</p> - -<p>"Job has nothing to do with me," I answered. "I in his place would -have said to God, 'Do not frighten me, but answer me clearly: Where is -the way that leads to Thee? Am I not Thy son, made in Thy image? Don't -lower Thyself to repulse Thy child.'"</p> - -<p>Often Grisha wept at the foolishness of my audacity, and embracing me, -he said:</p> - -<p>"My dear brother, I am frightened for you—terribly frightened. Your -words and your reasonings are from the devil."</p> - -<p>"I do not believe in the devil, for God is all-powerful."</p> - -<p>Then he became even more excited. He was a pure and tender man, and I -loved him.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></h4> - - -<p>It was at this time that I performed the penance.</p> - -<p>After my day's work I went to the church, where Brother Nikodime opened -the door for me and locked me in, disturbing the stillness of the -temple with the loud rattle of iron. I waited at the door till the last -reverberation died away on the flagstones, then walked up quietly to -the Crucifix and sat down upon the floor before it, for I was too weak -to stand. Every muscle in my body ached from toil, and I had no desire -to read the Acathistus.</p> - -<p>I sat down, clasped my knees and gazed about me with sleepy eyes and -thought about Grisha and about myself. It was summer, and the nights -were hot and close, but here, in the semi-darkness of the church, it -was pleasantly cool. The lamps under the holy pictures twinkled and -winked at each other, and the little blue flames tugged upward as -if they wished to fly toward the cupola, or higher still, to heaven -itself, to the stars of the summer night. The quiet crackling of the -wicks could be heard, each with its own peculiar sound, and half -asleep, it seemed to me that the church was filled with a secret, -unseen life, which, under the flickering of the lamps, held communion -with itself. In the warm stillness and darkness the faces of the saints -floated meditatively, as if something unsolved were before them. -Ghost-like shadows passed before my face and the delicate, sweet odor -of oil and cypress wood and incense surrounded me. The gold and the -bronze of the holy images appeared duller and simpler, the silver shone -warm and friendly, and everything melted and swam fusing into a torrent -large and wide as in a dream.</p> - -<p>Like a thick, sweet-smelling cloud, the church swung and swam to the -low whispering of an indistinct prayer. I swung with it in a row of -shadows, until a soft drowsiness took me up from the ground.</p> - -<p>Before the ringing of the bell for early mass, the silent Brother -Nikodime would enter and wake me, touching me lightly on the head.</p> - -<p>"Go, in God's name," he would say, and I would answer:</p> - -<p>"Pardon me, I have fallen asleep again."</p> - -<p>Then I would go out swaying, and Nikodime would support me and say -hardly audibly:</p> - -<p>"God will pardon you, my benefactor."</p> - -<p>Nikodime was an insignificant looking little old man, who hid his face -from all and called every one his "benefactor." Once I asked him:</p> - -<p>"Say, Nikodimushke, are you silent because of a vow?"</p> - -<p>"No," he answered; "but just so." Then he sighed. "If I had anything to -say, I would say it." "Why did you leave the world?"</p> - -<p>"Because I left it."</p> - -<p>If you questioned him further, he did not answer at all, but looked -into jour face with guilty eyes, and said in a whisper:</p> - -<p>"I don't know why, my benefactor."</p> - -<p>At times I thought to myself: "Perhaps this man, also, had sought an -answer at one time."</p> - -<p>And I wanted to run away from the monastery.</p> - -<p>But here another gentleman appeared, starting up suddenly like a rubber -ball against a fence. He was a strong, short, bold fellow, with round -eyes like an owl's, a bent nose, light curls, a bushy beard and teeth -which shone in a continual smile. He amused all the monks with his -jokes and his shameless stories about women. At night he had them come -to the monastery, smuggled in vodka without end, and was marvelously -handy at everything. I looked at him and said:</p> - -<p>"What do you seek in a monastery?"</p> - -<p>"I? Things to gobble."</p> - -<p>"Bread is given to those who work."</p> - -<p>"That," he answered, "is a commandment from the peasants' God, but I am -a man from the town and have also served two years in the Council, and -can count myself as one of the authorities."</p> - -<p>I tried to understand this jester, for I had to see all the springs -which moved different kinds of people.</p> - -<p>As I became more used to my work, Misha grew lazier, went off somewhere -or other, and although it was more difficult for me alone, still it was -more pleasant. People came freely to the bakery and we talked.</p> - -<p>Mostly we were three—Grisha, I and; oily Seraphim. Grisha would be -excited and threatened me with his hands; Seraphim would whistle and -shake his curls and smile. Once I asked him:</p> - -<p>"Seraphim, you vagabond, do you believe in God?"</p> - -<p>"I will tell you later," he answered. "Wait about thirty years. When -I am in my sixties, I suppose I will know exactly what I believe. At -present I understand nothing and I don't want to lie."</p> - -<p>He would tell us about the sea. He spoke about it as about a great -miracle, using marvelous words, now quiet and loud; now with fear, and -with love. And he glowed all over with joy which made him look like a -star. When we listened to him we were silent and even heavy at heart at -his stories of this vast, live beauty.</p> - -<p>"The sea," he said with passion, "is the blue eye of earth which looks -out to the far heaven and meditates on infinite space. On its waves, -which are as alive and sensitive as the soul, is reflected the play of -the stars and their secret path; and if you watch for a long time the -ebb and the flow of the sea, then the sky, too, appears like a far-off -ocean, and the stars like islands."</p> - -<p>Grisha listened, all pale, and smiled quietly, as if a moonbeam were -playing on him, and he whispered sadly:</p> - -<p>"And before the countenance of this mystery and beauty we only -barter—nothing more."</p> - -<p>At other times Seraphim would tell us about the Caucasus. He pictured -to us a land gloomy and exquisite, like a fairyland, where hell and -heaven embraced, and were at peace, both equal and both proud in their -majesty.</p> - -<p>"To see the Caucasus," Seraphim said in ecstasy, "that means to see the -pure countenance of the earth, on which without inconsistency there -unite in a smile the delicate purity of the childlike soul and the -proud audacity and wisdom of the devil. The Caucasus is the touchstone -of man. Weak spirits are ground to dust there and tremble before the -power of the earth; but the strong, on the other hand, feel their -strength grow and become proud and exalted like the mountain whose -diamond-studded summit sends down its rays into the depths of the -celestial wilderness. And this summit is the throne of the thunder."</p> - -<p>Grisha sighed and asked in a low voice:</p> - -<p>"And who points out the path to the soul? Should one be in the world or -go away from it? What should one accept and what reject?"</p> - -<p>Seraphim smiled distractedly and luminously.</p> - -<p>"The glory of the sun is neither augmented nor diminished because you -do not look at the sky, Grisha. Don't bother about that subject, my -dear friend."</p> - -<p>I understood Seraphim, but not entirely. I asked him, a little hurt:</p> - -<p>"And as to people—what do you think about them? Why are they here?"</p> - -<p>He shrugged his shoulders and smiled.</p> - -<p>"People—are like weeds. There are various kinds among them. For -those who are blind the sun is black; for those who are not happy -with themselves, God is an enemy. Besides, people are young. To call -three-year-old Jack, Mr. So-and-so is early a bit and doesn't quite -fit."</p> - -<p>His mouth overflowed with such quotations. They dropped from his lips -like leaves from an apple tree, just as with Savelko. If you asked -him anything, he immediately overpowered you with his puns, as if he -were strewing flowers on a child's grave. His evasions made me angry, -but he, the young devil, only laughed. At times I would say to him, -irritated:</p> - -<p>"You are loafing here, you idle dog, eating bread for nothing."</p> - -<p>"That is the way it is with us," he answered. "He who eats his own -bread remains hungry. Look at our peasants. All their life they -sow wheat, yet dare not eat. You're quite right. To work is not my -specialty. You get sore bones from work, but never rich and healthy; -just lie in bed and shirk and you get fat and wealthy. And even you, -Matvei, would rather steal than forego a meal."</p> - -<p>I argued with him, but toward the end I myself began to laugh.</p> - -<p>He was simple and straightforward, and that attracted me very much. He -never made any pretensions, but said simply:</p> - -<p>"I am nothing but a little insect, and not very harmful at that. I only -ask for bread that I be fed."</p> - -<p>I saw that his whole make-up was very much like Savelko's and I -marveled how men could keep their clear spirits and their happy frame -of mind in this maelstrom of life.</p> - -<p>Seraphim, next to Grisha, was like a clear day in spring compared to a -day in autumn. Nevertheless, they grew more close to each other than to -me. I was a little vexed at this. Soon they both went away together, -Grisha having decided to go to Olonetz, and Seraphim said to me:</p> - -<p>"I will accompany him. Then I will rest a week and return to the -Caucasus. You should come along with us, Matvei. In tramping you will -find more quickly what you are seeking, or you will lose what you have -in excess, which, perhaps, is just as well. They can't bribe God away -from the earth."</p> - -<p>But I could not go along with them, for at that time I was having my -interviews with Mardarie, and I was especially curious about this -ascetic. I saw them off with great sadness, and my quiet evenings and -my happy days went with them.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></h4> - - -<p>Mardarie, the penance monk, lived in a pit in the stone wall behind -the altar. In ancient times this hole was a secret place where the -monastery treasure was hidden from robbers, and there had been a secret -passage to it direct from the altar. The stone vault from this pit had -been taken away, and now it was covered with thick, wooden planks, -and underneath it was built a kind of light cage with a little window -in the ceiling. There was a grating with a railing around it, through -which the pilgrims looked at the ascetic. In a corner was a trap-door, -from which spiral steps led down to Mardarie. It made one dizzy to go -down them. The pit was deep, twelve steps down, and only one ray of -light fell in, and this one did not reach the bottom but melted and -faded away in the damp darkness of this underground dwelling. One had -to look long and steadily through the grating to see somewhere in the -depths of the darkness something still darker which looked like a large -rock or a mound. That was the ascetic, sitting motionless.</p> - -<p>To go down to him the warm, odiferous dampness caught one, and for the -first few seconds nothing could be seen. Then from the gloom would -rise an altar and a black coffin, in which sat, bent over, a little, -gray-haired old man in a dark shroud, decorated with white crosses, -hilts, a reed and a lance, which lay helter-skelter and broken on his -dried-up body. In the corner a round stove hid itself, and from it a -pipe crawled out like a thick worm, while on the brick walls grew green -scales of mildew. A ray of light pierced the darkness like a white -sword, then rusted and broke apart.</p> - -<p>On a pile of shavings the ascetic swayed back and forth as a shadow, -his hands resting on his knees and fingering a rosary. His head was -sunk on his breast and his back was curved like a yoke.</p> - -<p>I remember that I went up to him, fell on my knees and remained silent. -He, too, was silent for a long time, and everything about us seemed -glutted with dead silence. I could not see his face, but only the dark -end of his sharp nose. He whispered to me so that I could hardly hear:</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>I could not answer. Pity for this man who lay alive in his coffin -oppressed and overcame me. He waited a little while, and then again -asked me:</p> - -<p>"What is it? Speak."</p> - -<p>He turned his face toward me. It was all dark, no eyes were to be seen; -only white eyebrows and a mustache and beard, which were like mildew -on the agonized and motionless countenance which was effaced by the -darkness. I heard the rustling of his voice:</p> - -<p>"You argue up there. Why do you argue? You should serve God humbly. -What is there to argue about with God? You should simply love God."</p> - -<p>"I love Him," I answered.</p> - -<p>"Well, perhaps. He punishes you, but you must make believe that you see -nothing and say, 'Praise be unto thee, O Lord.' Say that always, and -nothing more."</p> - -<p>It was evident that it was difficult for him to speak, either from -weakness or because he was unused to it. His words were hardly alive -and his voice was like the trembling of the wings of a dying bird.</p> - -<p>I could not ask the old man anything, for I was sorry to disturb the -peace of his death-waiting, and I feared to startle something; so I -stood there motionless. From above the sound of bells leaked down, -rocking the hair on my head, and I desired ardently to lift up my head -toward the sky and gaze at it, but the darkness pressed down heavily on -my neck and I did not move.</p> - -<p>"Pray," he said to me, "and I will pray for you."</p> - -<p>He became silent again. All was quiet, and a terrible fear made my -flesh creep and filled my breast with icy coldness. A little later he -whispered to me:</p> - -<p>"Are you still here?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"I can't see. Well, go, and God be with you. Don't argue."</p> - -<p>I went out quietly. When I reached the earth above and breathed the -pure air, I was drunk with joy and my head swam. I was all wet as if -I had been in a cave; and he, Mardarie, had been sitting there now the -fourth year!</p> - -<p>I was to have five interviews with him, but I kept silent through them -all; I could not speak. When I went down to him he listened, and then -asked me in his unnatural voice:</p> - -<p>"Some one came—the same one as yesterday?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. It is I."</p> - -<p>Then he began to mumble, with interruptions:</p> - -<p>"Don't offend God—what do you need? You need nothing. Perhaps a little -piece of bread. But to offend God is a sin. That comes from the devil. -The devils, they lend a hand to every one. I know them. They are -offended and they are malicious. They are offended—that is why they -are malicious. So don't get offended, or you will resemble the devil. -People offend you, but you should say to them: 'Christ save you,' and -then go. Everything is vanity. The main thing is yourself. Let them not -take your soul away. Hide it, so that they cannot take it away."</p> - -<p>He sowed his quiet words, and they spread themselves over me like ashes -from a far-off fire. They were not necessary to me, and they did not -touch my soul. It seemed to me I saw a black dream, which I could not -understand and which wearied me very much.</p> - -<p>"You are silent," he said thoughtfully. "That is good. Let them do what -they want, but you keep quiet. Others come to me and they talk—they -talk very much. But I cannot understand what they want. They even talk -about women. What is that to me? They talk about everything. But what -they say about everything, I cannot understand. But you are right to -keep silent. I also would not speak, but the Abbot up there said: -'Console him; he needs to be consoled.' Well, all right. But I myself -would much rather not talk.</p> - -<p>"Oh, God, forgive them all! Everything was taken from me—only prayers -remained to me. Whoever tortures you, take no notice of him. It is the -devils who torture you. They tortured me, too. My own brother, he beat -me, and my wife gave me rat's poison. Evidently I was only a rat to -her. They stole all I had from me, then said that I set fire to the -village. They wanted to throw me into the fire. And I sat in prison. -Everything happened to me. I was judged—sat some more. God be with -them. I pardoned every one—I was not guilty, yet I pardoned. That was -for my own sake.</p> - -<p>"A whole mountain of injury lay on me. I could not breathe. Then I -pardoned them and it went away. The mountain was no more. The devils -were offended and they went away. So you, too, pardon every one. I need -nothing. It will be the same with you."</p> - -<p>At the fourth interview he asked me:</p> - -<p>"Bring me a crumb of bread. I will suck it. I am weak. Pardon me, in -Christ's name."</p> - -<p>My heart ached with pity for him. I listened to his ravings and I -thought:</p> - -<p>"Why is that necessary, O Lord, why?"</p> - -<p>But he still rustled his dry tongue:</p> - -<p>"My bones ache. Night and day they draw. If I sucked a crumb it would -be better perhaps; but this way my bones itch. It disturbs me—it -disturbs my prayers. It is necessary to pray every second, even in -one's dreams. If not, the devil immediately reminds one. He reminds one -of one's name and where one lived, and everything. There he sits on the -stove. It doesn't matter to him if it is hot—sometimes red hot. He -is used to it. He sits himself there, a little, gray thing, opposite -me, and just sits. I cross myself and do not look at him, and he gets -tired. Then he crawls on the wall like a spider, or sometimes he floats -in the air like a gray rag. He can do anything, my devil. He gets bored -with an old man, but he has got to watch me, he has orders to.</p> - -<p>"Of course, it is not pleasant for him to watch an old man. I am not -offended with him. The devil doesn't do it of his own free will, and I -am used to him. 'Well,' I say to him, 41 am tired of you,' and I don't -look at him. He is not bad or evil, only he continually reminds me of -my name."</p> - -<p>Then the old man lifted his head and said loudly:</p> - -<p>"They called me Michail Petrov Viakhiref."</p> - -<p>And then he sank down in his coffin again and whispered:</p> - -<p>"Thus the devil tempts me. Oh, you devil! Are you still here, brother? -Go, and God be with you."</p> - -<p>I could have cried with anger that day. What was the use of this old -man? What beauty was there in his deed? I could not understand it. All -day and many days afterward I thought of him, and I felt that a devil -mocked me and made grimaces at me.</p> - -<p>The last time that I went to him I filled my pockets with soft bread, -and I brought that bread to him, with pain and anger against all -mankind. When I gave it to him he whispered:</p> - -<p>"Oh, it is still warm. Oh!"</p> - -<p>He moved in his coffin. The shavings creaked underneath him while he -hid his bread, whispering:</p> - -<p>"Oh, oh."</p> - -<p>The darkness and the mildewed wall—everything around us moved, -reechoing the low groans of the ascetic—"Oh."</p> - -<p>Four times a week they brought him food. Of course, he was starved.</p> - -<p>This last time he said nothing to me, only sucked the bread. He -evidently had not a tooth left in his head.</p> - -<p>I stood there for some time. Then I said:</p> - -<p>"Well, pardon me, in Christ's name, Father Mardarie. I am going now, -and I won't return again. Let me thank you."</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes," he answered eagerly. "It is I who thank you; it is I who -thank you. But don't tell the monks about the bread. They will take it -away. They are jealous, the monks are. No doubt the devils know them, -too. The devils know everything and everybody—say nothing about it."</p> - -<p>Soon after this he became ill and died. They buried him with solemnity. -The Bishop came from the city with all his clergy, and they held a -Cathedral Mass. Afterward I heard that under the tombstone of the old -man a little blue fire burns of itself at night.</p> - -<p>How pitiful it all was and how disgraceful to man!</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></h4> - - -<p>Soon after this my life changed entirely. Even while Grisha was here an -ugly incident happened to me. Once I went into the ante-room and caught -Misha in an act which gave the lie to his constant and disgusting -denunciation of women as unclean. It was inexpressibly disgusting -to me, for I remembered all the filth which he spoke about women; I -remembered his hatred of them; and I spat and escaped to the bakery, -trembling with wrath and shame and bitterness. He followed me, fell on -his knees, and begged me not to tell.</p> - -<p>"I know that she torments you at night, too. The power of the devil is -strong."</p> - -<p>"You lie," I said. "Go to all the devils, you pig. And you bake bread, -you dog!"</p> - -<p>I insulted him, for I could not contain myself.</p> - -<p>If he had not soiled all womankind with his dirty words, I would not -have minded it so much.</p> - -<p>But he crawled before me and begged me not to tell.</p> - -<p>"Well," I said, "can one speak about such things? It is too shameful. -But I don't want to work with you. Tell them to give me other work."</p> - -<p>I insisted on that.</p> - -<p>At this time people were not yet alive or clear to me, and I strove -only for one thing: to keep myself apart.</p> - -<p>Misha became ill and lay in the hospital. I worked as of old and was -given two assistants to help me.</p> - -<p>Three weeks passed, when suddenly the steward called me and told me -that Misha had recovered but did not want to work with me because of my -obstinate nature; and therefore in the meantime I would be ordered to -dig stumps out of the wood. This work was considered a punishment.</p> - -<p>"Why?" I asked.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the handsome monk, Father Anthony, entered the office, stood -modestly aside and listened. The steward continued to explain to me:</p> - -<p>"Because of your obstinate nature and your impudent opinions about the -brothers. At your age and in your condition, it is foolish; unbearable; -and you must be punished. But the Father Superior, in his goodness, -said that we should take you over to the office for easy work. And that -is how it may turn out."</p> - -<p>He spoke for a long time, in a singsong voice and without feeling; and -I saw that it did not come from his conscience, but that he dragged one -word after another from duty.</p> - -<p>Father Anthony leaned against a bench, looked at me, stroked his beard -and smiled with his beautiful eyes as if he were joking with me about -something.</p> - -<p>I wished to show him my character and said to the steward:</p> - -<p>"I don't seek to be raised, nor do I wish to accept humiliation, for I -do not deserve it, as you know, but I want justice."</p> - -<p>The steward grew red in the face and beat the ground with his stick.</p> - -<p>"Keep silent, insolent one!"</p> - -<p>Father Anthony bent to his ear and said something.</p> - -<p>"It is impossible," answered the steward. "He is to take his punishment -without a murmur."</p> - -<p>Anthony shrugged his shoulders and turned toward me. His voice was low -and warm:</p> - -<p>"Submit, Matvei."</p> - -<p>He conquered me with his two words and his caressing look. I bowed to -the steward and to him, and then I asked the steward when I must go to -the wood.</p> - -<p>"In three days," he answered. "But these three days you must go to the -dungeon—that's what."</p> - -<p>If Anthony had not been there I certainly would have broken the -steward's bones. But I took Anthony's words as a sign of the -possibility to get near him, and for this I was ready to cut off my -right arm—anything.</p> - -<p>They sent me down to the dungeon. It was a hole underneath the office, -in which it was impossible to stand or lie down; one had to sit. Straw -was thrown on the floor, but it was wet from dampness. And it was -quiet as a grave, not even mice were there; and such darkness that the -hands disappeared. If you put your hands before your face they were not -visible.</p> - -<p>I sat there and was silent, and everything in me seemed poured from -lead. I was heavy as stone, and cold as ice.</p> - -<p>I clinched my teeth for I wished to hold back my thoughts; but they -flamed up within me like coals and burned me. I could have bitten -somebody, but there was no one to bite. I caught my hair with my hands, -swayed back and forth like the tongue of a bell, and shrieked and raved -and roared within:</p> - -<p>"Where is Thy justice, O Lord? Do not the lawless play with it? And -do not the strong trample it in their evil, drunken power? What am I -before Thee? A lawless sacrifice or a keeper of Thy beauty and justice?"</p> - -<p>I recalled the arrangement of the life in the monastery. It stood -before me, ugly and cynical.</p> - -<p>And why did they call the monks the servants of God? In what way were -they holier than laymen? I knew the difficult peasant life in the -villages. They lived starved and wretched. They drank, they fought, -they stole, they committed every sin. But was not His path unseen? And -they had no strength to struggle for righteousness; nor time. Each one -was attached to the soil and tied to his house with a strong chain—the -fear of starvation. What could one ask of them?</p> - -<p>But here men lived free and satisfied. Here books and wisdom were -open to them. But which one of them served God? Only the weak and the -bloodless, like Grisha, remained faithful to God, who to the others -was only a protector of sins and a source of lies. I remembered the -evil lust of the monks for women and all their offenses of the flesh, -which even the animals disdained—and their laziness and gluttony; -their quarrels over the distribution of the funds, when they cawed -maliciously at one another like ravens in a cemetery.</p> - -<p>Grisha told me that no matter how much the peasants worked for the -monastery, their indebtedness grew continually. I thought of myself: -"Here I have already spent a long time and what has my soul profited? -I have received only wounds and sores. How has my intelligence been -enriched? Only by the knowledge of all kinds of baseness and of -loathing for man."</p> - -<p>Around me was silence. Even the sound of the bells, by which I could -have measured time, did not reach me, and there was neither day nor -night for me. Who dared to take away the sun from man?</p> - -<p>The rank darkness oppressed me, and my soul was consumed by it. There -was nothing left to light my path. The faith which was dear to my -heart, the justice and omniscience of God, sank and melted away.</p> - -<p>But like a bright star the face of Father Anthony flashed before me, -and all my thoughts and feelings circled around it like a moth around -a flame. I conversed with him, and complained to him, and asked him -questions, and saw his two caressing eyes in the darkness.</p> - -<p>I paid dearly for those three days and I went out of the hole blinded, -my head feeling as if it were not my own, and my knees trembling. The -monks laughed at me.</p> - -<p>"What," they said, "you took a good soul-bath, eh?"</p> - -<p>At night the Abbot called me, made me kneel before him, and gave me a -long lecture.</p> - -<p>"It is written that I shall crush the teeth of the sinner and bend his -back in the yoke."</p> - -<p>I was silent and controlled my heart. The peacemaker, Father Anthony, -stood before me, and stilled my evil mouth with his affectionate look. -Suddenly the Abbot softened.</p> - -<p>"We value you, you fool," he said. "We think of you. We have noticed -your zeal in work and wish to reward your intelligence. I even place -before you a choice of two duties. Do you want to work in the office, -or do you want to be a lay brother to Father Anthony?"</p> - -<p>I felt as if I had been revived with warm water. I was stifled with joy -and could hardly speak:</p> - -<p>"Permit me to be a lay brother."</p> - -<p>He frowned, became thoughtful, and looked at me curiously.</p> - -<p>"If you go to the office," he said, "I will take away the stump -digging; but if you go as a lay brother, I will increase the work in -the woods."</p> - -<p>"Permit me to be a lay brother."</p> - -<p>He asked me sternly:</p> - -<p>"Why, you fool! The work is easier in the office, and more respectable."</p> - -<p>I insisted. He bowed his head and thought a while.</p> - -<p>"I permit it. You are a strange fellow, and one should not lose sight -of you. Who knows what fires you will light—who knows? Go in peace."</p> - -<p>I went to the wood. It was spring then, cold April. The work was hard, -the wood an ancient one. The main roots went deep into the earth; the -side ones were big. I dug and dug, and chopped and chopped; tied the -trunk and made the horse pull out the stump. He tried with all his -strength, but only broke the harness. Already by noon my bones felt -broken and my horse trembled and was covered with foam. He looked at me -out of his round eyes, as if he wished to say: "I cannot, brother; it -is hard."</p> - -<p>I petted him and slapped his neck. "I see," I said. And again I dug and -chopped and the horse looked at me, his hide trembling and his head -nodding. Horses are intelligent, and I am sure that they perceive all -the senseless actions of man.</p> - -<p>At this time I had an encounter with Misha, which came near ending -badly for both of us. Once I went to my work after the noon-day meal, -and had already reached the wood when suddenly he overtook me, club in -hand, his face wild, his teeth showing, and panting like a bear. What -did it mean?</p> - -<p>I stopped and waited for him. He did not say a word, but brandished his -club at me. I bent in time, and struck him below the belt with my head. -I threw him down, sat on his chest, and took away his club.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter with you?" I asked him. "What's this for?"</p> - -<p>He struggled underneath me and said hoarsely:</p> - -<p>"Get out of the monastery!"</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"I can't look at you. I'll kill you! Get out of here!"</p> - -<p>His eyes were red. The tears that came out seemed red, and his lips -were covered with foam. He tore at my clothes; he scratched and pinched -me, anxious to reach my face. I shook him lightly and arose from his -chest.</p> - -<p>"You wear the garb of a monk," I said, "and yet you are capable of such -vileness, you brute! Why?"</p> - -<p>He sat in the mud and demanded, obstinately:</p> - -<p>"Get out of here! Don't make me lose my soul!"</p> - -<p>I did not understand him. Finally I made a guess, and asked him low:</p> - -<p>"Perhaps, Misha, you think I told some one about your wretched sin? It -is not so. I told no one about it."</p> - -<p>He arose, swayed, held on to the tree and looked at me with his wild -eyes.</p> - -<p>"I wish you had told it to the whole world!" he roared. "It would be -easier for me! I could repent before others and they would forgive -me. But you, scoundrel, despise every one. I do not want to be under -obligations to you, you proud heretic. Get out, or I'll have the sin of -blood on me!"</p> - -<p>"If that is the way it is," I said, "go away yourself, if you have to. -I won't go—that is sure."</p> - -<p>He again jumped on me, and we both fell into the mud, getting dirty -like frogs. I proved to be the stronger, and arose, but he still lay -there, weeping and miserable.</p> - -<p>"Listen, Misha," I said. "I am going away a little later. Now I can't. -I am not staying out of spite, but because I have to. I have got to be -here."</p> - -<p>"Go to your father, the devil," he groaned, and gnashed his teeth.</p> - -<p>I went away from him, and a little while later he was ordered to go to -the monastic inn in the city, and I never saw him again.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a></h4> - - -<p>When my penance was finished I stood before Anthony, dressed in new -clothes. I remember this period of my life from the first day to the -last; everything, even to each word, was burned into my soul and cut -into my flesh.</p> - -<p>He led me to his cells quietly, and taught me in detail how and when -and in what way I was to serve him.</p> - -<p>One room was arranged with book-cases, full of worldly and religious -books. "This," he said, "is my chapel."</p> - -<p>In the center of the room stood a large table, near the window an -upholstered armchair, and toward one side of the table a divan covered -with rich tapestry. In front of the table there was a chair with a high -back, covered with pressed leather.</p> - -<p>A second room was his bedroom. It had a wide bed, a wardrobe filled -with cassocks and linen, a wash stand with a large mirror, many brushes -and combs and gaily colored perfume bottles. And on the walls of the -third room, which was uninviting and empty, were two closed cupboards, -one for wine and food and the other for china, pastry, preserves and -sweets.</p> - -<p>Having finished this inspection, he led me to his library and said:</p> - -<p>"Take a seat. So, this is the way I live. Not like a monk, eh?"</p> - -<p>"No," I answered; "not quite according to rule."</p> - -<p>"Well, you condemn every one. I suppose you will condemn me soon, too."</p> - -<p>He smiled, haughty as a bell tower.</p> - -<p>I loved him for his beautiful face, but his smile was disagreeable to -me.</p> - -<p>"I do not know whether I will condemn you," I said. "I certainly would -like to understand you."</p> - -<p>He laughed low, in a base, which was offensive to me.</p> - -<p>"You are illegitimate?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"You have good blood in your veins?"</p> - -<p>"What is good blood?" I asked.</p> - -<p>He laughed, then answered impressively.</p> - -<p>"Good blood is something from which proud souls are made."</p> - -<p>The day was clear, the sun shone in through the window, and Anthony sat -entirely covered by its rays. Suddenly an unexpected thought flashed -through my head and pierced my heart like the bite of a snake. I jumped -from my chair and stared hard at the monk. He, too, arose, and I saw -that he picked up a knife from the table and played with it, asking:</p> - -<p>"What is the matter with you?"</p> - -<p>"Are you not my father?" I asked him.</p> - -<p>His face became drawn, immovable and blue, as if it were carved from -ice. He half closed his eyes so that the light went out of them, and -said, almost in a whisper:</p> - -<p>"I think—not. Where were you born? When? How old are you? Who is your -mother?"</p> - -<p>And as I told him how I was abandoned he smiled and put the knife back -on the table.</p> - -<p>"I was not in the district at that time," he answered.</p> - -<p>I became embarrassed and uncomfortable. It was as if I had begged for -charity and been refused.</p> - -<p>"Well," he said, "and if I had been your father, what then?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing," I answered.</p> - -<p>"Exactly. That is the way I think about it. We are living together in a -place where there are no fathers and no children in the flesh, only in -the spirit. On the other hand, we are all abandoned on this earth—that -is, we are brothers in misery, which we call life. Man is an accident -in life, do you know that?"</p> - -<p>I read in his eyes that he was making fun of me. I was still laboring -under the unpleasant impression which my strange and incomprehensible -question had aroused in me, and I would have liked to explain the -question to him or to forget it altogether. But I made matters worse by -asking:</p> - -<p>"Why did you take that knife in your hand?" Anthony gazed at me and -then laughed low:</p> - -<p>"You are a bold questioner. I took it because I took it, and why I -really do not know. I like it; it is a very pretty thing."</p> - -<p>And he gave me the knife. It was sharp and pointed, with a design in -gold laid on the steel, and a silver handle, with red stones.</p> - -<p>"It is an Arabian knife," he explained to me. "I use it for cutting -pages of books, and at night I put it under my pillow. There is a rumor -abroad that I am rich and there are poor people living about me, and my -cell is out of the way."</p> - -<p>The knife as well as the hands of Anthony had a rich, peculiar perfume, -which almost intoxicated me and made my head swim.</p> - -<p>"Let us talk a little more," Anthony continued in his low, deep, soft -voice. "Do you know that a woman comes to see me?"</p> - -<p>"So I heard."</p> - -<p>"It is not true that she is my sister. I sleep with her."</p> - -<p>"Why do you talk of these things to me?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"So that you will be shocked once and for all and not continue to be -surprised. You like worldly books?"</p> - -<p>"I have never read them."</p> - -<p>He took from the book-case a little book bound in red leather and gave -it to me.</p> - -<p>"Go, prepare the samovar and read this," he said, in a tone of command.</p> - -<p>I opened the book, and on the very first page I found a picture—a -woman naked to her knees and a man in front of her, also naked.</p> - -<p>"I will not read this," I said.</p> - -<p>Then he turned to me and said sternly:</p> - -<p>"And if your spiritual superior orders you to? How do you know why this -is necessary? Go."</p> - -<p>In the annex where my room was I sat down on my bed, overcome by -fear and sadness. I felt as if I had been poisoned; I was weak and -trembling. I did not know what to think; I could not understand. From -where did the thought come that he was my father? It was a strange idea.</p> - -<p>I remembered his words about the soul: "The soul is made of blood." And -about man: "That he is an accident on earth." All this was so plainly -heretical. I remembered his drawn face at my question.</p> - -<p>I opened the book again. It was a story about some French cavalier and -about women. What did I want with it?</p> - -<p>He rang for me and called. I came in, and he met me in a friendly -manner.</p> - -<p>"Where is the samovar?"</p> - -<p>"Why did you give me this book?"</p> - -<p>"So that you would know what sin is."</p> - -<p>I became happy again. It seemed to me I understood his object; he -wished to educate me. I bowed low, went out, prepared the samovar -eagerly and brought it back into the room, where Anthony had already -prepared everything for tea. And as I was going out he said:</p> - -<p>"Remain and drink tea with me."</p> - -<p>I was grateful to him, for I wanted to understand something very much.</p> - -<p>"Tell me," he said, "how you have lived and why you came here."</p> - -<p>I began to tell him about myself, not hiding from him my most secret -impulse, not a thought which I could remember. And he listened to me -with half-closed eyes, so engrossed that he did not even drink his tea.</p> - -<p>Behind him the evening looked in at the window, and against the red sky -the black branches of the trees made their outline.</p> - -<p>But I talked all the time and gazed on the white fingers of Anthony's -hands, which were folded on his breast. When I had finished he poured -out a little glass of dark sweet wine for me.</p> - -<p>"Drink," he said. "I noticed you when you prayed aloud in the church. -The monastery doesn't help much, does it?"</p> - -<p>"No; but in you I place great hope. Help me. You are a learned man; you -must know everything."</p> - -<p>"I only know one thing: You go up the mountain, reach the top, and -fall—you fall to the very depth of the precipice. But I myself do -not follow this law because I am too lazy. Man is a worthless thing, -Matvei; but why he is worthless, is not clear. Life is exquisite and -the world enchanting. So many pleasures are given to man, and man is -worthless. Why? This is a puzzle I cannot solve, and I do not even wish -to think about it."</p> - -<p>Vespers rang. He started and said:</p> - -<p>"Go, and God be with you. I am tired, and I must attend service."</p> - -<p>Had I been wiser I would have left him that very day, for then I would -have preserved a pleasant memory of him. But I did not understand the -meaning of his words.</p> - -<p>I went to my room, lay down, and noticed the little book which lay at -my side. I struck a light and began to read it out of gratitude for my -superior. I read how the cavalier I mentioned above deceived husbands, -climbing to their wives at night through the windows, and how the -husbands spied on him; how they wished to pierce him with their swords -and how he escaped.</p> - -<p>And all this was very stupid and unintelligible to me; that is, I -understood well enough that a young fellow might enjoy it, but I could -not understand why it was written about, and I could not fathom why I -had read such nonsense.</p> - -<p>And again I began to think: "How did I suddenly come upon the thought -that Anthony was my father?" This thought ate my soul as rust eats -iron. Then I fell asleep.</p> - -<p>In my dream I felt that some one touched me. I jumped up. He stood near -me.</p> - -<p>"I rang and rang for you," he said.</p> - -<p>"Forgive me," I said, "in Christ's name. I have worked very hard."</p> - -<p>"I know," he answered. But he did not say, "God forgive you."</p> - -<p>"I am going to the Father Abbot. Make everything ready, as it should -be. Ah, you have read the book! It is too bad you have begun it. It is -not quite for you. You were right; you need another kind."</p> - -<p>I prepared his bed. The linen was thin, the cover soft; everything was -rich and new to me; and a delicate, pleasant odor emanated from all.</p> - -<p>And so I began to live in this intoxicating world, as in a dream. I saw -no one but Anthony. But even he seemed as if he were in a shadow and -moved in shadows. He spoke in a friendly tone, but his eyes mocked. -He seldom used the word God; instead of God he said soul; instead of -devil, nature.</p> - -<p>But for me the meaning of his words did not change. He made fun of the -monks and of the church orders. He drank very much wine, but he never -staggered in walking, only his forehead became a bluish-white and his -eyes glowed with a dark fire, and his red lips grew darker and drier.</p> - -<p>It happened often that he came back from the Abbot at midnight or even -later, and he woke me and ordered that I bring him wine. He sat and -drank, spoke to himself in his low voice long and uninterruptedly, -sitting there sometimes till matins were called.</p> - -<p>It was difficult for me to understand his words, and I have forgotten -many of them, but I remember how at first they frightened me, as if -they had suddenly opened some terrible abyss in which the whole face -of the earth was swallowed up. Often a feeling of emptiness and misery -came over me because of his words, and I was ready to ask him:</p> - -<p>"And you, are you not the devil?"</p> - -<p>He was gloomy, spoke in a tone of command, and when he was drunk his -eyes became even more mysterious, sinking far into his head. On his -face a smile twitched continually, and his fingers, which were thin and -long, opened and closed and pulled at his blue-black beard. A coldness -emanated from him. He was terrifying.</p> - -<p>As I have said, I did not believe in the devil, and I knew that it -was written that the devil was strong in his pride; that he fought -continually; that his passion and his skill lay in tempting people.</p> - -<p>But Father Anthony in no way tempted me. He clothed life in gray, -showed it to me as something insane, and people for him were only a -herd of crazy swine who were dashing to the abyss with varying rapidity.</p> - -<p>"But you have said that life is beautiful," I said.</p> - -<p>"Yes, if it recognizes me it is beautiful," he answered.</p> - -<p>Only his laugh remained with me. He seemed to me to gaze upon -everything from his corner as if he had been driven away from -everywhere and was not even hurt at being driven away.</p> - -<p>His thoughts were sharp and penetrating, subtle like a snake, but -powerless to conquer me, for I did not believe them, although often I -was ravished by their cleverness and by the great leaps of the human -mind.</p> - -<p>At times, though this happened seldom, he became angry with me.</p> - -<p>"I am a nobleman!" he shouted. "A descendant of a great race of people! -My fathers founded Russia! They are historical figures, and this -lout—this dirty lout dares to interrupt me! The beautiful dies, only -the worms remain, and only one man of a distinguished family among -them."</p> - -<p>His expressions did not interest me. I, too, perhaps, came from a -distinguished family. But surely strength did not lie in ancestry, but -in truth, and though the evening will surely not come again, the morrow -comes.</p> - -<p>He sat in his armchair and talked, his face bloodless.</p> - -<p>"Again the monks have won from me, Matvei. What is a monk? A man -who wishes to hide from his fellow men his own vileness and who is -afraid of its power over him. Or, perhaps, a man who is overcome by -his weakness, and flees from the world in fear, that the world may -not devour him. Such monks are the better and more interesting; but -the others are only homeless men, dust of the earth, or still-born -children."</p> - -<p>"What are you among them?" I asked.</p> - -<p>I might have asked this ten times or more straight to his face, but he -answered me always in this way:</p> - -<p>"Man is a child of accident on this earth, everywhere and forever."</p> - -<p>His God, too, was a mystery to me. I tried to ask him about God when -he was sober, but he only laughed and answered with some well-known -quotation.</p> - -<p>But God was higher to me than anything that was ever written about Him.</p> - -<p>I asked him when he was drunk how he saw God then. But even drunk, -Anthony was firm.</p> - -<p>"Ah, you are cunning, Matvei," he answered. "Cunning and obstinate. I -am sorry for you."</p> - -<p>I, too, was sorry for him, for I saw his solitude and I valued the -abundance of his thoughts, and I was sorry that they were being sown at -random in his cell. But though I was sorry for him, still I persisted -firmly in my questions, and once he said, unwillingly:</p> - -<p>"I no more see God than you, Matvei."</p> - -<p>"Though I do not see God," I answered, "still I feel Him and do not -question His existence, but only try to understand His laws, upon which -our earth is based."</p> - -<p>"As for the laws," he said, "look in the book on Canonical Rights, and -if you feel God then—I shall congratulate you."</p> - -<p>He poured out some wine, clinked glasses with me and drank. I noticed -that, though his face was as grave as that of a corpse, the beautiful -eyes of the gentleman mocked at me. The fact that he was a gentleman -began to lessen my feelings for him, for he unfolded his birth to me so -often that he made me boil with anger.</p> - -<p>When he was somewhat drunk, he liked to speak about women.</p> - -<p>"Nature," he would say, "has kept us in an evil and heavy bondage -through woman, its sweetest allurement; and had we not this carnal -temptation, which saps out the best from the soul of man, he could have -attained immortality."</p> - -<p>Since Brother Misha had spoken about the same theme, though more -heatedly, I was disgusted by this time with such thoughts. Misha had -renounced woman with hatred and defamed her furiously; but Father -Anthony adjudged her without any feelings and tiresomely.</p> - -<p>"Do you remember," he said, "I once gave you a book? If you read it you -must have seen how woman in her whole make-up is cunning and full of -lies, and debauched to the very bottom."</p> - -<p>It was strange, and it hurt me to hear man, born of woman and nourished -with her life, besmirch and trample upon his own mother, denying -her everything but the flesh; degrading her to a senseless animal. -At times I expressed my thoughts to him, though vaguely; not so -distinctly. He became outraged and shouted.</p> - -<p>"Idiot! Was I talking about my own mother?"</p> - -<p>"Every woman is a mother," I answered.</p> - -<p>"There are some," he shouted, "who are only loose women all their -lives."</p> - -<p>"Well," I answered, "there are some who are hunchbacked; but that is -not the law for all."</p> - -<p>"Get out of here, fool!"</p> - -<p>Evidently the officer was not dead in him.</p> - -<p>Several times when I asked about God, we wrangled with each other. He -angered me with his sly wit, and one evening I went at him with all my -might. My character grew bad, for I passed through great suffering at -this time. I circled around Anthony like a hungry man around a locked -pantry; he smells the bread through the door, and it only tends to -madden him. And the night to which I refer, his evasions enraged me. I -caught up the knife from the table and cried:</p> - -<p>"Tell me everything you believe or I will cut my throat, come what may!"</p> - -<p>He became frightened, grabbed my hand, wrenched the knife from me and -grew very much excited—not at all like himself.</p> - -<p>"You should be punished for this," he said, "but no punishment ever -helps fanaticism."</p> - -<p>And then he added, and his words were like nails beaten into my head:</p> - -<p>"This is what I will tell you: only man exists. Everything else is an -opinion. Your God is a dream of your soul. You can only know yourself, -and even that not certainly."</p> - -<p>His words shook me like a storm and ravaged me. He spoke for a long -time, and though I did not understand everything, I felt that in this -man was no sorrow or joy or fear, or sensitiveness, or pride. He was -like an old church-yard priest, reading the mass for the dead, near -a tomb. He knew the words well, but they did not touch his soul. His -words were frightful to me at first, but later I understood that the -doubt in them was without force, for they were dead.</p> - -<p>It was May, the window was open, and the night in the garden was filled -with a warm perfume of flowers. The apple trees were like young girls -going to communion—a delicate blue in the silver moonlight.</p> - -<p>The watchman beat the hours, and in the stillness the bronze resounded -lugubriously.</p> - -<p>Before me sat a man with a face of stone, calmly emitting bloodless -words—words which vanished and were gray like ashes. They were -offensive and painful to me, for I saw brass where I had expected gold.</p> - -<p>"Go now," said Anthony to me.</p> - -<p>I went into the garden, and when early mass was rung I entered the -church, went into a dark corner and stood there, thinking, what need -of God had a man who was half dead?</p> - -<p>The brothers assembled. One would say it was the moonlight which broke -the shadows of night into a thousand fragments and which noiselessly -crawled into the temple to hide.</p> - -<p>From this time something incomprehensible happened. Anthony began -speaking to me in the tone of a gentleman, dry and crossly, and he -never called me to him in a friendly way. All the books which he had -given me to read he took away. One of them was a Russian history which -had many surprises for me, but I got no chance to finish it. I tried to -fathom in what way I had offended this gentleman of mine, but I could -not.</p> - -<p>The beginning of his speech was engraven in my memory and lived -uppermost in my mind, though not troubling my other thoughts: "God is -the dream of your soul," I repeated to myself. But I did not feel the -necessity of debating this; it was an easy thought.</p> - -<p>Soon a woman came to him. It was late at night. Anthony rang for me and -cried:</p> - -<p>"Quick—the samovar!"</p> - -<p>When I brought it in I saw a woman sitting on the divan, in a wide pink -dress, blonde disheveled curls hanging over her shoulders, and a little -pink face, like a doll's, with light-blue eyes. She seemed to me modest -and sad.</p> - -<p>I placed the dishes on the table, and Anthony hurried me all the while.</p> - -<p>"Do it quicker—hurry."</p> - -<p>"He is aflame," I said to myself.</p> - -<p>I liked his love affairs, for it was pleasant to see how skilful -Anthony was even in love—a thing which is not very difficult.</p> - -<p>As for myself, love left me cold at this time, and the looseness of the -monks kept me away from it. But what kind of a monk was Father Anthony?</p> - -<p>The woman was pretty in her way, a delicate little thing, like a new -toy.</p> - -<p>In the morning I went into the room to set it to rights. But he was not -there, having gone to the Abbot. She sat on the divan, her feet under -her, uncombed and half dressed. She asked me what I was called. I told -her. Then she asked me if I had been in the monastery a long time, and -I answered that question also.</p> - -<p>"Don't you get bored here?"</p> - -<p>"No," I answered.</p> - -<p>"That's strange—if it's true."</p> - -<p>"Why should it not be true?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"You are so young and good-looking."</p> - -<p>"Is the monastery only for cripples?"</p> - -<p>She laughed and put out a bare foot from the divan. She looked at me -and let herself be seen immodestly; exposed, her arms bare to the -shoulder and her gown unfastened at the breast.</p> - -<p>"You do that in vain," I thought. "You should keep your charms for your -lover."</p> - -<p>And the little fool asked me:</p> - -<p>"Don't women bother you?"</p> - -<p>"I don't see them," I answered. "How can they bother me?"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by 'how'?" And she laughed.</p> - -<p>Anthony appeared in the door and asked angrily:</p> - -<p>"What is this, Zoia?"</p> - -<p>"Oh," she cried, "he is so funny—that one!" And she began to chatter -and tell how "funny" I was.</p> - -<p>But Anthony did not listen to her, and commanded me sternly:</p> - -<p>"Go and unpack the trunks and the bags. Then take part of the -provisions to the Abbot."</p> - -<p>Even before dinner both of them had taken enough wine, and in the -evening, after tea, the woman was entirely drunk, and Anthony, too, -seemed more drunk than usual. They drove me from one corner to the -other—to bring this, to carry that; to heat the wine, then to cool it.</p> - -<p>I ran about like a waiter in a drinking place, and they became more and -more free before me. The young lady was hot and took off some of her -clothes, and the gentleman suddenly asked me:</p> - -<p>"Matvei, isn't she pretty?"</p> - -<p>"Pretty enough," I answered.</p> - -<p>"But look at her well."</p> - -<p>She laughed, drunk.</p> - -<p>I wanted to go out, but Anthony called out, wildly:</p> - -<p>"Where are you going? Stay here! Zoiaka, show yourself naked!"</p> - -<p>I thought I had not heard rightly, but she pulled off a gown she had -on and stood upon her feet, swaying. I looked at Anthony and he looked -back at me. My heart beat loudly, for I pitied this man. Vulgarities -did not quite fit him, and I was ashamed for the woman. Then he shouted:</p> - -<p>"Get out of here, you lout!"</p> - -<p>"You are a lout yourself!" I retorted.</p> - -<p>He jumped up, overthrowing the bottles on the table. The dishes fell to -the ground with a crash; something began to flow hastily, like a lonely -stream. I went out into the garden and lay down. My heart ached like a -bone that is frozen. In the stillness I heard Anthony cry out:</p> - -<p>"Out with you!"</p> - -<p>And a woman's voice whined:</p> - -<p>"Don't you dare, you fool!"</p> - -<p>Soon the harnessing of horses was heard in the courtyard, and their -dissatisfied neighing and stampings on the dry earth. Doors were -slammed, the wheels of a carriage rattled, and then the large gates -creaked.</p> - -<p>Anthony walked through the garden, calling low:</p> - -<p>"Matvei, where are you?"</p> - -<p>His tall figure moved among the apple trees and he caught at the -branches and let fall the perfumed snow of flowers, muttering:</p> - -<p>"Oh, the fool!"</p> - -<p>And behind him, dragging along the ground, was his thick, heavy shadow.</p> - -<p>I lay in the garden until morning, and then went to Father Isador.</p> - -<p>"Give me back my passport. I am going away."</p> - -<p>He was so startled that he jumped up.</p> - -<p>"Why? Where?"</p> - -<p>"Somewhere—in the world. I don't know where," I answered.</p> - -<p>He began to question me.</p> - -<p>"I will not explain anything," I said.</p> - -<p>I went out from his cell and sat down near it on the bench underneath -the old pine tree. I sat there on purpose, for it was the bench on -which those who were driven away, or went of their own free will, sat, -as if to announce the fact of their departure.</p> - -<p>The brothers passed me, and looked at me sideways; some even spat at -me. I forgot to say that there had been a rumor that Anthony had taken -me as his lover. The Neophytes envied me and the monks envied that -gentleman of mine. And they slandered both of us.</p> - -<p>The brothers passed, saying to each other:</p> - -<p>"Ah, they have driven him away; thanked be the Lord!"</p> - -<p>Father Assaf, a sly and malicious old man, who acted as the Abbot's -spy, and was known in the monastery as a half-witted hypocrite, -attacked me with vile words, so that I said to him:</p> - -<p>"Go away, old man. If not I will take you by the ear and put you away."</p> - -<p>Although he was half-witted, as I said, he understood my words.</p> - -<p>The head of the monastery called me to him and spoke in a friendly tone:</p> - -<p>"I told you, Matvei, my son, that it would have been better to have -entered the office, and I was right. Old men always know more. Do you -think with your obstinate nature that you could act as a servant? Here -you have shamefully insulted the revered Father Anthony."</p> - -<p>"He told you that?"</p> - -<p>"Who, then? You have not said anything."</p> - -<p>"Did he tell you that he showed me a naked woman?"</p> - -<p>The Father Abbot made a cross over me from holy fright and said, -shaking his hands:</p> - -<p>"What is the matter with you? What is the matter with you? God be with -you! What kind of a woman? That is some dream of yours, coming from the -flesh; a creation of the devil. Oh, oh, oh! You should think of your -words. How can a woman be in a monastery of men?"</p> - -<p>I wanted to calm him.</p> - -<p>"Who, then, brought you the port wine, and the cheese, and the caviar -last night?"</p> - -<p>"What are you saying? Christ save you. How can you think up such -things?"</p> - -<p>It was disgusting and enough to drive one insane.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a></h4> - - -<p>At noon I crossed the lake, sat down on the bank and gazed at the -monastery where I had slaved for over two years.</p> - -<p>The wood spread out before me with its green wings and disclosed the -monastery on its breast. The scalloped white walls, the blue head of -the old church, the golden cupola of the new cathedral and the striped -red roofs stood out clearly from the splendid green. The crosses -glowed, shining and inviting, and above them the blue bell of heaven -sounded the joyful peace of spring, while the sun rejoiced in its -victory.</p> - -<p>In this beauty which inflated the soul with its keen splendor, black -men in long garments hid themselves and rotted away, living empty days -without love, without joy in senseless labor and in mire.</p> - -<p>I pitied them and myself, too, so that I almost wept. I arose and went -on.</p> - -<p>Perfume was over all, the earth and all that lived sang, the sun drew -forth the flowers in the field and they lifted themselves up toward the -sky and made their obeisance to the sun. The young trees whispered and -swayed, the birds twittered and love burned everywhere on the fruitful -earth which was drunk with its own strength.</p> - -<p>I met a peasant and greeted him, but he hardly nodded. I met a woman -and she evaded me. And all the time I had a great desire to speak with -people, and I would have spoken to them with a friendly heart.</p> - -<p>I spent the first night of my freedom in the woods. I lay long, gazed -up at the sky and sang low to myself and fell asleep. In the early -morning I awoke from cold, and walked on, racing to meet my new life as -if on wings. Each step took me farther away, and I was ready to outrun -the distance.</p> - -<p>The people whom I met looked suspiciously at me and stepped aside. The -black dress of the monk was disgusting and inimical to the peasants, -but I could not take it off. My passport had expired, but the Abbot -made a note under it which said that I was a novice of the monastery of -Savateffsky and that I was on my way to visit holy places.</p> - -<p>So I directed my steps to these places together with those wanderers -who fill our monastery by hundreds on holidays. The brothers were -indifferent or hostile to them, calling them parasites and robbing them -of every penny they had. They forced them to do the monastery work and -imposed on them and treated them with contempt. I was always busied -with my own affairs and seldom met the newcomers. I did not seek to -meet them, for I considered myself something quite extraordinary and -placed my own inner self above everything else.</p> - -<p>I saw gray figures with knapsacks on their backs and staffs in their -hands creeping and swaying along the roads and paths, going not -hurriedly but depressed, with heads bent low, walking humbly and -thoughtfully, with credulous, opened hearts. They flowed together in -one place, looked about them, prayed silently and worked a bit. If a -wise and virtuous man happened to be there they talked with him low -about something, and again spread out upon the paths going to other -places with sad steps.</p> - -<p>They walked, old and young, women and children, as if one voice called -them, and I felt from this crossing and recrossing of the earth a -strength arise from the paths which caught me also, and alarmed me and -promised to open my soul. This restless and humble wandering seemed -strange to me after my motionless life.</p> - -<p>It was as if earth herself tore man from her breast and pushed him -forth, ordering him imperiously, "Go, find out, learn." And man goes -obediently and carefully, seeks and looks and listens attentively, -then goes on farther again. The earth resounds under the feet of the -searchers and drives them farther over streams and mountains and -through forests and over seas, still farther wherever the monasteries -stand solitary, offering some miracle, and wherever a hope breathes of -something other than this bitter, difficult and narrow life.</p> - -<p>The quiet agitation of the lonely souls surprised me and made me human, -and I began to wonder,</p> - -<p>"What are these people seeking?" Everything about me swayed, frightened -and wandering like myself.</p> - -<p>Many like myself sought God, but did not know where to go and strewed -their souls on the paths of their seeking, and were going on only -because they did not have strength enough to stop, acting like the seed -of the dandelion in the wind, light and purposeless.</p> - -<p>Others unable to shake off their laziness carried it on their -shoulders, lowering themselves and living by lies, while still others -were enthralled by the desire to see everything, but had no strength in -them to love.</p> - -<p>I saw many empty men and degraded rascals, shameless parasites, greedy -like roaches. I saw many such, but they were only the dust behind the -great crowd filled with the desire of finding God.</p> - -<p>Irresistibly this crowd dragged me along with it.</p> - -<p>And around it like gulls over the sea various winged people circled -noisily and greedily, who astonished me with their monstrous -deformities.</p> - -<p>Once in Bielo-ozer I saw a middle-aged man with a haughty mien. He was -cleanly dressed and evidently a man of means.</p> - -<p>He had seated himself in the shade of a tree, and had pieces of cloth, -a box of salve and a copper basin near him, and kept crying out:</p> - -<p>"Orthodox, those with sore feet from overstraining, come here; I will -heal them. I heal free because of a vow I have taken upon myself in -the name of the Lord."</p> - -<p>It was a church holiday in Bielo-ozer and the pilgrims had flocked -there in great numbers. They came up to him, sat down, unwound the -wrappings on their feet, while he washed them, spread salve on the -wounds and lectured them.</p> - -<p>"Eh, brother, you are not over-wise. Your sandal is too large for -your foot. How can you walk like this?" The man with the large sandal -answered in a low voice, "It was given to me in charity."</p> - -<p>"He who gave it to you has pleased God, but that you should walk in it -is your own foolishness, and there is nothing great about your deed. -God will not count it to your credit."</p> - -<p>Well, I thought, here is a man who knows God's meanings.</p> - -<p>A woman came up to him, limping.</p> - -<p>"Oh, young one," he called out, "you have no corn, but the French -sickness, permit me to tell you. This, Orthodox, is a contagious -disease. Whole families die from it, and it is hard to get rid of." The -woman became confused, rose and went away with her eyes lowered, and he -continued calling:</p> - -<p>"Come here, Orthodox, in the name of St. Cyril."</p> - -<p>People went up to him, unwound their feet and groaned, and said "Christ -save you!" while he washed them.</p> - -<p>I noticed that his refined face twitched as in a cramp and his skilful -hands trembled. Soon he closed up his pious shop and ran off somewhere -quickly.</p> - -<p>At night a little old monk led me to a shed, and there I saw the same -man. I lay down next to him and began to speak low:</p> - -<p>"How is it, sir, that you spend the night together with these common -people? To judge by your clothes, your place is in the inn."</p> - -<p>"I have taken an oath to be among the lowest of the low for three -months. I want to fulfil my pious work to the very end, and let myself -be eaten up by lice with the rest of them. I really cannot bear to see -wounds—they make me sick; still, no matter how disgusting it is to me, -I wash the feet of the pilgrims every day. It is a difficult service to -the Lord, but my hope in His mercy is great."</p> - -<p>I lost my desire to speak to him, and, making believe I had fallen -asleep, I lay thinking, "his sacrifice to God is not over great."</p> - -<p>The straw underneath my neighbor rustled. He arose carefully, knelt -down and prayed, at first silently, but later I heard his whispered -words:</p> - -<p>"Oh, thou, St. Cyril, intercede before God for me, a sinner, and make -Him heal me of my wounds and sores as I have healed the wounds of men. -All-seeing God, value my labors and help me. My life is in Thy hands. -I know that my passions were violent, but Thou hast already punished -me enough. Do not abandon me like a dog, and let not Thy people drive -me away, I beg of Thee, and let my prayers arise toward Thee like the -smoke of incense." Here was a man who had mistaken God for a doctor. It -was unbearable to me, and I closed my ears with my hands.</p> - -<p>When he had finished praying he took out something to eat from his bag -and chewed for a long time, like a boar.</p> - -<p>I have met many such people. At night they creep before their God, -while in the day they walk pitilessly over the breasts of men. They -lower God to do the duty of hiding their vile actions, and they bribe -him and bargain with him.</p> - -<p>"Do not forget, O Lord, how much I have given Thee."</p> - -<p>Blind slaves of greed, they place it high above themselves and bow down -to this hideous idol of the dark and cowardly souls and pray to it.</p> - -<p>"O Lord, do not judge me in Thy severity nor punish me in Thy wrath."</p> - -<p>They walk upon earth like spies of God and judges of men, and watch -sharply for any violation of the church laws. They bustle and flock -together, accusing and complaining. "Faith is being extinguished in the -hearts of people; woe unto us!"</p> - -<p>One man especially amused me with his zeal. We walked together from -Perejaslavlja to Rostoff, and the whole way he kept crying out to me, -"Where are the holy laws of Feodor Studite?"</p> - -<p>He was well fed, healthy, with a black beard and rosy cheeks; had -money, and at night mixed with the women in the inns.</p> - -<p>"When I saw how the laws were violated and the people depraved," -he said to me, "all the peace of my soul went from me. I gave <i>my</i> -business, which was a brick factory, to my sons to manage, and here I -am, wandering about for four years, watching everything, and horror -fills my soul. Rats have crawled into the Holy Sacristy, and have -gnawed with their sharp teeth the holy laws, and the people are angry -with the church, and have fallen away from her breast into vile -heresies and sects. And what does the church militant do against this? -It increases its wealth and lets its enemies grow. The church should -live in poverty, like poor Lazarus, so that the people might see what -true holiness poverty is, as Christ preached it. The people on seeing -this would stop complaining and desiring the wealth of others. What -other task has the church but to hold back the people with strong -reins?"</p> - -<p>Those sticklers for the law cannot hide their thoughts when they see -its weakness, and they shamelessly disclose their secret selves.</p> - -<p>On the Holy Hill a certain merchant, who was a noted traveler and -who described his pilgrimages in holy places in clerical papers, was -preaching to the crowd humility, patience and kindness.</p> - -<p>He spoke warmly, even to tears. He entreated and he threatened, and the -crowd listened, silent and with bowed heads.</p> - -<p>I interrupted his speech and asked him "if open lawlessness should be -suffered also."</p> - -<p>"Suffer it, my friend," he cried; "undoubtedly suffer it. Christ -himself suffered for us and for our salvation."</p> - -<p>"How then," I answered, "about the martyrs and the fathers of the -church? For instance, take St. John Chrysostom, who was bold and -accused even kings."</p> - -<p>He became enraged, flared up at me and stamped his feet. "What are you -chattering there, you blunderer? Whom did they accuse? Heathens!"</p> - -<p>"Was Eudoxia a heathen, or Ivan the Terrible?"</p> - -<p>"That is not the point," he cried, waving his arms like a volunteer at -a Are. "Do not speak about kings, but about the people—the people, -that's the important thing. They are all sophisticated, and have no -fear. They are serpents which the church ought to crush; that is her -duty."</p> - -<p>Although he spoke simply, I did not understand at this time what all -this anxiety about the people was, and though his words caused me fear, -I still did not understand them, for I was spiritually blind and did -not see the people.</p> - -<p>After my discussion with this writer several men came up and spoke to -me, as if they did not expect anything good from me.</p> - -<p>"There is another fellow here; don't you want to meet him?"</p> - -<p>Toward vespers a meeting was arranged for me with this young man in -the wood near the lake. He was dark, as if blasted by lightning. His -hair was cut short, and his look was dry and sharp; his face was all -bone, from which two brown eyes burned brightly. The young man coughed -continually and trembled. He looked at me hostilely and, breathing with -difficulty, said: "They told me about you—that you scoff at patience -and kindness. Why? Explain."</p> - -<p>I do not remember what I said to him, but as I argued I only noticed -his tortured face and his dying voice when he cried to me: "We are not -for this life, but for the next. Heaven is our country. Do you hear it?"</p> - -<p>A lame soldier, who had lost his leg in the Tekinsky War, stood -opposite him and said gloomily: "My opinion, Orthodox, is this: -Wherever there is less fear there is more truth," and turning to the -young man he said: "If you are afraid of death that is your affair, but -do not frighten the others. We have been frightened enough without you. -Now you, red-head, speak."</p> - -<p>The young man vanished soon after, but the people remained—a crowd -of about half a hundred—to listen to me. I do not know with what I -attracted their attention, but I was pleased that they heard me, and -I spoke for a long time in the twilight, among the tall pines and the -serious people.</p> - -<p>I remember that all their faces fused into one long, sorrowful -face, thoughtful and strong-willed, dumb in words but bold in secret -thoughts, and in its hundred eyes I saw an unquenchable fire which was -related to my soul.</p> - -<p>Later this single face disappeared from my memory, and only long after -I understood that it was this centralization of the will of the people -into one thought which arouses the anxiety of the guardians of the law -and makes them fear. Even if this thought is not yet born or developed, -still the spirit is enriched by the doubt in the indestructibility -of hostile laws—whence the worry of the guardians of the law. They -see this firm-willed, questioning look; they see the people wander -upon the earth, quiet and silent, and they feel the unseeing rays of -their thoughts, and they understand that the secret fire of their -dumb councils can turn their laws into ashes, and that other laws are -possible.</p> - -<p>They have a fine ear for this, like thieves who hear the careful -movements of the awakened owner whose house they have come to rob in -the night, and they know that when the people shall open its eyes life -will change and its face turn toward heaven.</p> - -<p>The people have no God so long as they live divided and hostile to one -another. And of what good is a living God to a satisfied man? He seeks -only a justification for his full stomach amid the general starvation -around him.</p> - -<p>His lone life is pitiful and grotesque, surrounded on all sides by -horror.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a></h4> - - -<p>One time I noticed that a little, old, gray man, clean like a scraped -bone, watched me eagerly. His eyes were set deep in his head, as if -they had been frightened back. He was shriveled up, but strong like a -buck and quick on his feet. He used to sidle up toward people and was -always in the center of a crowd. He marched and scrutinized each face -as if looking for an acquaintance. He seemed to want something from me -but did not dare ask for it, and I pitied his timidity.</p> - -<p>I was going to Lubin, to the sitting Aphanasia, and he followed me -silently, leaning on his white staff. I asked him, "Have you been -wandering long, Uncle?"</p> - -<p>He grew happy, shook his head and tittered.</p> - -<p>"Nine years already, my boy, nine years."</p> - -<p>"You must be carrying a great sin," I said.</p> - -<p>"Where is there measure or weight for sin? Only God knows my sins."</p> - -<p>"Nevertheless, what have you done?" I laughed and he smiled.</p> - -<p>"Nothing," he answered. "I have lived on the whole as every one else. I -am a Siberian from beyond Tobolsk. I was a driver in my youth and later -had an inn with a saloon and also kept a store."</p> - -<p>"You've robbed some one." The old man started.</p> - -<p>"Why, what is the matter with you? God save me from it."</p> - -<p>"I was only joking," I said. "I saw a little man trotting along, and I -thought to myself, how could such a little man commit a big sin." The -old man stopped and shook his head.</p> - -<p>"All souls have the same size," he answered, "and they are all equally -acceptable to the devil. But tell me, what do you think about death? -You have spoken in the shelters about life, always about life. But -where is death?"</p> - -<p>"Here somewhere," I answered.</p> - -<p>He threatened me with his finger jokingly and said: "It is here. That's -it, it is always here."</p> - -<p>"Well, what if it is?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"It is here," and rising on his tiptoes he whispered into my ear, -"Death is all powerful. Even Christ could not escape it. 'Let this cup -pass from me,' He said, but the Heavenly Father did not let it pass. He -could not. There is a saying, 'Death appears and the sun disappears,' -you see."</p> - -<p>The little, old man began to talk like a stream rushing down a -mountain. "Death circles around us all and man walks along as if -he were crossing a precipice on a tightrope; one push with Death's -wing and man is no more. O Lord, by Thy force Thou hast strengthened -the world, but how has He strengthened it if death is placed above -everything? You can be bold in thought, steeped in learning, but you -will only live as long as death permits you." He smiled, but his eyes -were full of tears.</p> - -<p>What could I say to him? I had never thought of death and now I had no -time.</p> - -<p>He skipped along beside me, looking into my face with his faded eyes, -his beard trembling and his left hand hid in the bosom of his cloak. He -kept looking about him as if he expected death to jump out from some -bush and catch him by the hand and throw him into hell.</p> - -<p>I looked at him astonished.</p> - -<p>Around us all life surged. The earth was covered with the emerald foam -of the grass, unseen larks sang, and everything grew toward the sun in -many colored brilliant shouts of gladness.</p> - -<p>"How did you get such thoughts?" I asked my traveling companion. "Have -you been very sick?"</p> - -<p>"No," he said. "Up to my forty-seventh year I lived peacefully and -contentedly, and then my wife died and my daughter-in-law hanged -herself. Both were lost in the same year."</p> - -<p>"Maybe you yourself drove her to the noose."</p> - -<p>"No, it was from her own depravity that she killed herself. I did not -bother her, though even if I had lived with her, it would have been -forgiven in a widower. I am no priest, and she was no stranger to me. -Even when my wife was alive I lived like a widower. She was sick for -four years and did not once come down from the stove. When she died I -crossed myself. 'Thank God,' I said, 'I am free.' I wanted to marry -again when suddenly the thought occurred to me I live well, I am -contented, but yet I have to die. Why should it be so? I was overcome. -I gave everything I had to my son and began my wandering. I thought -that on the road I would not notice that I was going to the grave, for -everything about me was gay and shining and seemed to lead away from -the graveyard. However, it is all the same."</p> - -<p>"Your heart is heavy, Uncle?" I asked him.</p> - -<p>"Oh, my son, it is so terrible I cannot describe it. In the daytime I -try to be among people that I may hide behind them. Death is blind, -perhaps it might not see me or make a mistake and take some one else, -but at night, when each one remains unprotected, it is terrible to lie -awake without sleep. It seems to me then that a black hand sweeps over -me, feeling my breast and searching, 'Are you here? 'It plays with -my heart like a cat with a mouse and my heart becomes frightened and -beats. I get up and look about me. There are people lying down, but -who knows whether they will arise? It happens that death takes away in -crowds. In our village it took a whole family, a husband, a wife and -two daughters who died of coal smoke in the bath house."</p> - -<p>His mouth twitched in a vain effort to smile, but tears flowed from his -eyes.</p> - -<p>"If one would only die within a little hour, or in sleep, but first -there comes sickness to eat one away little by little."</p> - -<p>He frowned and his face contracted and looked like mildew. He walked -quickly, almost skipping, but the light went out of his eyes, and he -kept muttering in a low voice, neither to me nor to himself: "Oh, Lord, -let me be a mosquito, only to live on the earth! Do not kill me, Lord; -let me be a bug or even a little spider!"</p> - -<p>"How pitiable!" I thought.</p> - -<p>At the station, among people, he seemed to revive again, and he talked -about his mistress, Death, but with courage. He preached to the people. -"You will die," he said; "You will be destroyed on an unknown day and -in an unknown hour. Perhaps three versts from here the lightning will -strike you down."</p> - -<p>He made some sad and others angry, and they quarreled with him. One -young woman called out: "You have nothing the matter with you, and yet -death bothers you."</p> - -<p>She said it with such anger that I noticed her, and even the old man -stopped his eulogy on death.</p> - -<p>All the way to Lubin he comforted me, until he bored me to death. I -have seen many such people who run away from death and foolishly play -hide-and-seek with it. Even among the young there are some struck by -fear, and they are worse than the old. They are all Godless; their -souls are black within, like the pipe of a stove, and fear whistles -through them even in the fairest weather. Their thoughts are like old -pilgrims who patter on the earth, walking without knowing whither and -blindly trampling under foot the living things in their path. They have -the name of God on their lips, but they love no one and have no desire -for anything. They are occupied with only one thing: To pass on their -fears to others, so that people will take them up, the beggars, and -comfort them.</p> - -<p>They do not go to people to get honey, but that they may pour into -another soul the deadly poison of their putrid selves. They love -themselves and are without shame in their poverty, and resemble -crippled beggars who sit on the road on the way to church and disclose -their wounds and their sores and their deformities to people, that they -may awaken pity and receive a copper.</p> - -<p>They wander, sowing everywhere the gloomy seeds of unrest, and groan -aloud, with the desire to hear their groans reecho. But around them -surges a mighty wave—the wave of humble seekers for God and human -suffering surrounds them many colored. For instance, like that of the -young woman, the little Russian, who had talked up to the old man. She -walked silent, her lips compressed, her face sunburnt and angry, and -her eyes burning with a keen fire.. If spoken to she answered sharply, -as if she wanted to stick you with a knife.</p> - -<p>"Rather than getting angry," I said to her, "you had better tell me -your trouble. You might feel better afterward."</p> - -<p>"What do you want of me?"</p> - -<p>"I don't want anything; don't be afraid."</p> - -<p>"I am not afraid; but you are disgusting to me." "Why am I disgusting?"</p> - -<p>"Stop insisting or I will call the people." And so she struck out at -every one—old and young, and women, too.</p> - -<p>"I do not need you," I answered. "I need your pain, for I want to know -why people suffer."</p> - -<p>She looked at me sideways and answered, "Go to others. They are all in -need, the devil take them." "Why curse them?"</p> - -<p>"Because I want to."</p> - -<p>She seemed to me like one possessed.</p> - -<p>"For whom are you making this pilgrimage?" I asked.</p> - -<p>A smile spread over her face. She slackened her pace and she talked, -though not to me:</p> - -<p>"Last spring my husband went down the Dneiper to float lumber, and he -never came back. Perhaps he was drowned, or perhaps he found another -wife—who knows? My father-in-law and mother-in-law are very poor and -very bad. I have two children-a boy and a girl—and how was I to feed -them? I was ready to work—to break myself in two working—? but there -was no work. And what can a woman earn? My father-in-law scolded. 'You -and your children are a millstone around our necks, with your eating -and drinking.' My mother-in-law nagged, 'You are young yet; go to the -monastery; the monks desire women, and you can earn much money.' I -could not stand the hunger of the children, and so I went. Should I -have drowned them? I went."</p> - -<p>She talked as in her sleep, through her teeth and indistinctly, and her -eyes cried out with the pain of motherhood.</p> - -<p>"My son is already in his fourth year; his name is Ossip and my -daughter's name is Ganka. I beat them when they asked for bread; I beat -them. I have wandered a whole month and I have earned four rubles. The -monks are miserly. I would have earned more at honest labor. Oh, those -devils! What waters can wash me now?"</p> - -<p>I felt I ought to say something to her, so I said: "On account of your -children, God will forgive you."</p> - -<p>Here she cried out at me. "What is that to me? I'm not guilty before -God! If He doesn't forgive me, He doesn't have to, and if He forgives -me, I myself cannot forget it. It cannot be worse in hell. There the -children will not be with me."</p> - -<p>I excited her in vain, I said to myself. But already she could not -restrain herself.</p> - -<p>"There is no God for the poor. When we were in Zeleniklin on the banks -of the Amur, how we celebrated mass and prayed and wept for aid! But -did He aid us? We suffered there for three years, and those who did -not die from fever returned paupers. My father died there, my mother -had her leg broken by a wheel and both my brothers were lost in -Siberia."</p> - -<p>Her face became like stone. Although her features were heavy, she had -a serious beauty about her and her eyes were dark and her hair thick. -All night up to early morning I spoke with her sitting on the edge of -the wood behind the box of the railroad watchman. I saw that her heart -was all burned out, that she was no longer capable of weeping, and only -when she spoke of her childhood did she smile twice, involuntarily, and -her eyes became softer.</p> - -<p>I thought to myself as she spoke, "She's ready to kill. She will murder -some one yet or she will become the loosest of the loose. There is no -outlet for her."</p> - -<p>"I do not see God, and I do not love people," she said. "What kind of -people are they if they cannot aid one another. Such people! Before the -strong they are lambs and before the weak—wolves, but even the wolves -live in packs but people live each one for himself and an enemy to his -neighbor. I have seen and see much, and may they all go to ruin! To -bear children and not to be able to bring them up! Is that right? I -beat mine when they asked for bread; I beat them!"</p> - -<p>In the morning she arose to sell her body to the monks, and going away -she said to me spitefully, "What is the matter with you? We slept near -each other and you are stronger than I am, and yet you did not take -advantage of the bargain."</p> - -<p>I felt as if she had slapped my face.</p> - -<p>"You do wrong in insulting me," I answered.</p> - -<p>She lowered her eyes and then said, "I feel like insulting every one, -even those who are not guilty. You are young and you are worn out and -your temples are gray. I know that you, too, suffer, but as for me, it -is all the same, I pity no one. Good-by."</p> - -<p>And she went away.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a></h4> - - -<p>In the six years of my wandering I have seen many people made bad by -sorrow. An unquenchable hatred for every one burned within them, and -they were blind to everything but evil. They saw evil and bathed in it -as in a hot bath, and they drank gall like a drunkard wine, and laughed -and triumphed.</p> - -<p>"Ours is the right," they cried. "Evil and unhappiness are everywhere; -there is no place to escape."</p> - -<p>They fell into mad despair and, inflamed by it, led depraved lives and -soiled the earth in every way, as if to revenge themselves on her that -she gave them birth. They crawled without strength on the paths of the -earth, and remained slaves of their own weakness to the very day of -their death. They elevated sorrow to godhood and bowed before it, and -desired to see nothing but their own sores and hear nothing but the -outcries of their own despair.</p> - -<p>They were to be pitied, for they were as though mad; but how repulsive -to the soul they were, with their readiness to spit their gall into -every face and pollute the sun itself with their spittle if they could.</p> - -<p>There were others, who were crushed by sorrow and frightened by it, who -remained silent and tried to hide their small and slave-like lives, -but who did not succeed and only served as clay in the hands of the -strong, to plaster up the chinks in the walls of their own fortress.</p> - -<p>Many faces and expressions have become engraved on my mind. Bitter -tears were shed before me, and more than once I was deafened by the -terrible laughter of despair.</p> - -<p>I have tasted of all the poisons and drunk of a hundred rivers, and -many times I myself wept the bitter tears of impotence. Life seemed -to me a terrible delirium. It was a whirlwind of frightened words and -warm rain of tears; it was a ceaseless cry of despair, an agonized -convulsion of the whole earth suffering with an upward struggle, -unattainable to my mind and to my heart.</p> - -<p>My soul groaned, "No; that is not the right."</p> - -<p>The streams of sorrow flowed turbidly over the whole earth, and with -unspeakable horror I saw that there was no room for God in this chaos -which separated man from man. There was no room to manifest His -strength, no spot to place His foot. Eaten up by the vipers of sorrow -and fear, by malice and despair, by greed and shamelessness, all life -was falling into ruin and man was being destroyed by discord and -weakening isolation.</p> - -<p>I questioned: "Art Thou not truly, O Lord, but a dream of the soul of -man, a hope created by despair in an hour of dark impotence?"</p> - -<p>I saw that each one had his own God, and that his God was neither -more noble nor more beautiful than His worshipers. This revelation -crushed me. It was not God that man sought, but the forgetfulness of -sorrow. Misfortune torments man and drives him in all directions. He -escapes from himself; he wishes to avoid action; he is afraid to work -in harmony with life, and he seeks a quiet corner where he can hide -himself.</p> - -<p>I did not find in man the holy feeling of seeking God nor a striving -to rejoice in the Lord. I saw nothing but fear of life, a desire to -overcome sorrow. My conscience cried out: "No; that is not the right!"</p> - -<p>It happened more than once that I met a man who seemed deep in serious -thought and had a good, clean light in his eyes. If I met him once or -twice, he was the same; but at the third or fourth meeting I would -see that he was bad or drunk, and that he was no longer modest, but -shameless, vulgar and blasphemed God, and I could not understand why -the man was spoiled or what had broken him. All seemed blind to me, and -to fall easily by the way-side.</p> - -<p>I seldom heard an exalted word. Too frequently men spoke strange words -out of habit, not understanding the benefit nor the harm which was -locked up in their thoughts. They gathered together the speeches of the -pious monks or the prophecies of the hermits and the anchorites, and -divided them among each other, like children playing with broken pieces -of china. In fact, I did not see the man, but fragments of broken -lives, dirty human dust, which swept over the earth and was blown by -various winds onto the steps of churches.</p> - -<p>The people circled in vast numbers around the relics of the saints or -the miracle-making ikons, or bathed in the holy streams, and sought -only self-forgetfulness. The church processions were painful to me. -Even as a child the miraculous ikons had lost their significance for -me, and my life in the monastery had destroyed any vestige of respect -that was left. At times I felt that man was a gigantic worm, crawling -in the dust of the roads, and that men urged each other on by a force -which I could not see, calling to each other, "Forward! Hurry!"</p> - -<p>And above them, forcing their heads to the ground, floated the ikon -like a yellow bird, and it seemed to me that its weight was far too -heavy for them.</p> - -<p>Those possessed fell in heaps in the dust and mud under the feet of -the crowd, and they struggled like fish in the water, and their wild -cries were heard. But the crowds passed over these palpitating bodies, -stamped them and kicked them under foot, and cried out to the image of -the Virgin, "Rejoice, Thou queen of heaven!"</p> - -<p>Their faces were distorted and wild with straining, damp with sweat and -black with dirt; and this whole procession of man, singing a joyless -song with weary voices and marching with hollow steps, insulted the -earth and darkened the heavens.</p> - -<p>The beggars sat or reclined on the sides of the road, under the -trees and stretched themselves out like two gay ribbons—the sick, -the crippled, the wounded, the armless, the legless and the blind. -Their worn bodies crept over the earth, their mutilated arms and legs -trembled in the air and pushed themselves before people to excite their -pity. The beggars moaned and wailed, their wounds burned in the sun, -while they asked and begged a kopeck for themselves, in the name of -God. Many of them were eyeless, while in others the eyes burned like -coals and pain gnawed the flesh without respite, and they resembled -some horrible growth.</p> - -<p>I saw man persecuted. The force which drove him into the dust and the -dirt seemed hostile to me. Whither did it drive them? No; that is not -the right!</p> - -<p>Once I was in the exquisite city of Kiev, and I was struck by the -beauty and the grandeur of this ancient nest of the Russians. There I -had an interview with a monk who was supposed to be very wise. I said -to him:</p> - -<p>"I cannot understand the laws upon which the life of a man is based."</p> - -<p>"Who are you?" he asked me.</p> - -<p>"A peasant."</p> - -<p>"Can you read and write?"</p> - -<p>"A little."</p> - -<p>"Reading and writing is not for such as you," he said sternly.</p> - -<p>I saw in truth that he was a seer.</p> - -<p>"Are you a Stundist?" he asked me.</p> - -<p>"No.</p> - -<p>"A-ha! Then you are a Dukhobor?"</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"I gather it from your words."</p> - -<p>His face was pink like flesh and his eyes were small.</p> - -<p>"If you seek God," he said to me, "then it is for but one reason—to -abase Him." He threatened me with his finger. "I know your kind. You -will not read the Credo a hundred times. Well, read it, and all your -foolishness will vanish like smoke. I would send all you heretics to -Abyssinia, to the Ethiopians in Africa. There you would perish alive -from the heat."</p> - -<p>"Were you ever in Abyssinia?" I asked him.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he answered.</p> - -<p>"And you didn't perish?"</p> - -<p>The monk became enraged.</p> - -<p>Another time, near the Dneiper, I met a man. He sat on the banks -opposite Lafra and he threw stones into the water. He was about fifty, -bald, bearded, his face covered with wrinkles, and his head large. At -that time I could tell by the eyes if a man was in earnest or not, and -I walked up to him and sat down at his side. It was toward evening. -The turbid Dneiper rolled its waters hurriedly. Behind it rose the -mountains, gray with temples, where the proud golden heads of the -churches shimmered in the sun, the crosses glistened and the windows -sparkled like precious gems. It appeared that the earth opened its lap -and showed her treasure to the sun in proud bounty.</p> - -<p>The man next to me said in a low voice, and sorrowfully:</p> - -<p>"They should cover Lafra with glass and drive all the monks away from -it and permit no one to enter, for there is no man worthy to walk amid -such beauty."</p> - -<p>It was like a fairy tale told by some wise, great man, which came true -there upon the banks of the river, where the waves of the Dneiper, -rushing down from afar, splashed up against the Lafra with joy at the -sight of it. But its surprised surging could not drown the quiet voice -of man. With what force it commenced, with what strength it was built -up! Like a faint dream, I remembered Prince Vladimir, and the Church -fathers, Anthony and Theodosia, and all the Russian heroes; and I was -filled with regret.</p> - -<p>The innumerable chimes on the other side of the bank rang out loudly -and joyfully, but the sad thoughts about life fell more distinctly on -my ears. We do not remember our birth. I came to seek the true faith, -and now I found myself wondering, "Where is man?"</p> - -<p>I could not see man. I saw only Cossacks, peasants, officials, priests, -merchants. I could find no one who was not tied up with some daily and -ordinary affair. Each one served some one, each one was under some -one's orders. Above the official was another official, and so they -rose, till they vanished from the eyes in an unattainable height. And -there God was hidden!</p> - -<p>Night came on. The water in the river became bluer and the crosses on -the churches lost their rays. The man still threw stones in the water, -but I could no longer see the ripples which they made.</p> - -<p>"Three years ago," he said, "we had a riot in Maikop on account of a -pestilence among the cattle. The dragoons were called out to fight us, -and peasants killed peasants. And all because of cattle. Many were -killed. I thought to myself then: 'What is this faith of the Russians, -if we are ready to kill each other on account of a few oxen, when God -said to us, "Thou shalt not kill."'"</p> - -<p>The Lafra disappeared in the darkness, and like a vision reentered the -mountain. The Cossack searched for stones in the sand around him, found -them and threw them into the river, and the water splashed loudly.</p> - -<p>"Such is man," the Cossack said, lowering his head. "The laws of God -are like spiritual milk, but they come down to us skimmed. It is -written, 'With a pure heart you will see God.' But how can your heart -be pure if you do not live according to your own will? Without one's -freedom there is no true faith, but only a fictitious one."</p> - -<p>He arose, shook himself and looked about him. He was a square-built -fellow.</p> - -<p>"We are not free enough before God; that is what I think."</p> - -<p>He took his cap and went away, and I remained alone, as if glued to -the earth. I wished to grasp the meaning of the Cossack's words, but I -could not. Still, I felt that they were right.</p> - -<p>The warm southern night caressed me, and I thought to myself:</p> - -<p>"Is it possible that only in suffering is the human soul beautiful? -Where is the pivot around which this human whirlwind moves? What is the -meaning of this vanity?"</p> - -<p>In winter I always went south, where it was warmer; but if the snow and -the cold caught me in the north, then I always entered a monastery. At -first the monks did not receive me in a friendly way, but when I showed -them how I worked they accepted me readily. They liked to see a man -work well and not take any money.</p> - -<p>My feet rested, while my arms and my head worked. I remembered all that -I saw during the summer, and I desired to draw out of it some clean -food for my soul. I weighed, I extracted, I wanted to understand the -reasons for things, and at times I became so confused that I could have -wept.</p> - -<p>I felt overfed with the groans and the sorrows of the earth, and the -boldness of my soul vanished and I became morose, silent, and an anger -arose in me against everything.</p> - -<p>From time to time dark despair took hold of me, and for weeks I lived -as if in a dream or blind. I desired nothing and saw nothing.</p> - -<p>I began to wonder if I should not stop this wandering and live as every -one else, and stop puzzling over my riddles, and subject myself humbly -to conditions of things which were not of my making.</p> - -<p>My days were as dark as the night, and I stood alone on the earth, -like the moon in heaven, except that I gave no light. I could stand -apart from myself and watch myself. I saw myself on the cross-ways, a -healthy young fellow, who was a stranger to every one, and whom nothing -pleased, and who believed in no one. Why did he live? Why was he apart -from the world?</p> - -<p>My soul became chilled.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a></h4> - - -<p>I also went to nunneries for a week or two, and in one of them, on the -Volga, I hurt my foot with an ax one day while chopping wood. Mother -Theoktista, a good little old woman, nursed me.</p> - -<p>The monastery was not large, but rich, and the sisters all had a -prosperous and dignified appearance. They irritated me, with their -sweetness and their honied smiles and their fat crops.</p> - -<p>Once, as I stood at vespers, I heard one of the women in the choir sing -divinely. She was a tall young girl, with a flushed face, black eyes, -stern looking, her lips red, and her voice was sure and full. She sang -as if she were questioning something, and angry tears mingled with her -voice.</p> - -<p>My foot became better and, as I was already able to work, I was -preparing to leave the place. While I was shoveling the snow from the -road one day I saw the girl coming. She walked quietly, but stiffly. -In her right hand, which was pressed against her breast, she carried -a rosary; her left hung by her side like a whip. Her lips were -compressed, she frowned and her face was pale. I bowed to her, but she -threw her head backward and looked at me as if I had done her harm at -some time. Her manner enraged me. Moreover, I could not bear the sight -of this young nun.</p> - -<p>"Well, my girl," I said, "it is not easy to live." She started and -stopped.</p> - -<p>"What did you say?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"It is hard to master one's self," I said.</p> - -<p>"Oh, the devil!" she said suddenly in a low voice, but with great -anger. And with that her black figure disappeared quickly, like a cloud -on a windy day.</p> - -<p>I cannot explain why I said that to her. At that time many such -thoughts jumped into my head and flew out like sparks into any one's -eyes. It seemed to me that all people were liars and hypocrites.</p> - -<p>Three days later I saw her again on another road. She angered me still -more. Why did she cover herself all in black? From what was she hiding? -When she passed me I said to her:</p> - -<p>"Do you wish to escape from here?"</p> - -<p>The girl trembled, threw back her head and remained standing, straight -as an arrow. I thought she would cry out, but she passed me, and then I -heard her answer distinctly:</p> - -<p>"I will tell you to-night."</p> - -<p>I was terrified, but I thought perhaps I had not heard correctly. -Still, though she had spoken low, her words came as clearly to me as -from a bell. At first they amused me; then I became confused, and later -I calmed myself, thinking that perhaps the bold hussy was joking with -me.</p> - -<p>When I had hurt my foot, they had brought me into the infirmary and I -occupied a little room under the staircase, and that room I occupied -all the time I stayed at the monastery. That night as I lay in my cot I -thought it was time I stopped my wandering life, and that I ought to go -to some city and there work in a bakery. I did not wish to think about -the girl.</p> - -<p>Suddenly some one knocked very low. I jumped up, opened the door, and -an old woman bowed and said:</p> - -<p>"Follow me, if you please."</p> - -<p>I understood where, but I asked nothing and went, threatening her -inwardly.</p> - -<p>"Is that the way it is, my dear? You will see how I will surprise your -soul."</p> - -<p>We crossed corridors and came to the place. The old woman opened a door -and pushed me forward, whispering, "I will come to take you back."</p> - -<p>A match flared up for a moment and in the darkness a familiar face lit -up, and I heard her voice say:</p> - -<p>"Lock the door."</p> - -<p>I locked it.</p> - -<p>I felt along the wall till I reached the stove, leaned up against it -and asked:</p> - -<p>"Will there be no light?"</p> - -<p>The girl gave a little laugh. "What kind of a light?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Oh, you wanton!" I thought to myself, but remained silent.</p> - -<p>I could hardly make out the girl. She was in the dark, like a black -cloud in a stormy sky.</p> - -<p>"Why don't you speak?" she asked. Her voice was masterful.</p> - -<p>She must be rich, I thought, and I collected myself and said:</p> - -<p>"It is for you to speak."</p> - -<p>"Were you serious when you asked me about my running away from here?"</p> - -<p>I stopped to think how I could best insult her, but then, like a -coward, I answered quietly:</p> - -<p>"No. It was only to test your piety."</p> - -<p>Again she lit a match. Her face stood out clearly and her black eyes -gazed boldly. It was unpleasant for me.</p> - -<p>I got used to the darkness and saw that she stood, tall and black, in -the middle of the room, and her bearing was strangely straight.</p> - -<p>"You need not test my piety," she whispered hotly. "I did not call you -here for that, and if you do not understand, go away from here."</p> - -<p>Her breast heaved and there was something serious in her voice—nothing -loose.</p> - -<p>In the wall opposite me was a window, and it looked like a path which -had been cut out of the darkness into the night. The sight of it was -disagreeable to me.</p> - -<p>I felt uncomfortable, for I understood that I had made a mistake, and -it became more and more painful to me, so that my limbs trembled.</p> - -<p>She continued talking.</p> - -<p>"I have nowhere to run away to. My uncle drove me here by force, but I -can live here no longer. I shall hang myself."</p> - -<p>Then she became silent, as if lost in an abyss.</p> - -<p>I lost myself entirely, but she moved nearer to me and her breath came -with difficulty.</p> - -<p>"What do you wish?" I asked her.</p> - -<p>She came up to me and put her hand on my shoulder. It trembled, and I, -too, shook all over. My knees became weak and the darkness entered my -throat and stifled me.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps she is possessed," I thought to myself.</p> - -<p>But she began to sob as she spoke, and her breath came hot on my face.</p> - -<p>"I gave birth to a son, and they took him away from me and drove me -here, where I cannot live. They tell me that my child is dead. My uncle -and aunt say it, my guardians. Perhaps they have killed him. Perhaps -they abandoned him. What can one know, my dear friend? I have still two -years to be in their power before I reach my majority, but I cannot -remain here."</p> - -<p>The words came from her inmost heart, and I felt guilty before her. I -was sorry for her, and also a little afraid. She seemed half insane. I -did not know whether to believe her or not.</p> - -<p>But she continued her whispering, which was broken by sobs:</p> - -<p>"I want a child. As soon as I am with child, they will drive me away -from here. I need a child, since the first one died. I want to give -birth to another, and this time I will not let them take it away from -me, nor let them rob my soul. I beg pity and help from you. You, who -are good, aid me with your strength, help me get back that which was -taken from me. Believe me, in Christ's name, I am a mother, not a loose -woman. I do not want to sin, but I want a child. It is not pleasure I -seek, but motherhood."</p> - -<p>I was in a dream. I believed her. It was impossible not to believe when -a woman stood on her rights and called a stranger to her, and said -openly to him:</p> - -<p>"They have forbidden me to create man. Help me."</p> - -<p>I thought of my mother, whom I had never known. Perhaps it was in this -same way that she threw her strength into the power of my father. I -embraced her and said:</p> - -<p>"Pardon me. I have judged you wrongly. Forgive me in the name of the -Mother of God."</p> - -<p>While lost in self-forgetfulness in accomplishing the holy sacrament of -marriage, an impious doubt arose in my mind.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps she is deceiving me, and I am not the first man with whom she -is playing this game."</p> - -<p>Then she told me her life story. Her father was a locksmith and her -uncle was a machinist's apprentice. Her uncle drank and was cruel. In -summer he worked on steamboats, in 'winter on docks. She had nowhere -to live, for her father and mother were drowned while there was a fire -on a boat, and she became an orphan at thirteen. At seventeen she -became the mother of a child by a young nobleman.</p> - -<p>Her low voice flowed through my soul, her warm arms were around my -neck, and her head rested on my shoulder. I listened to her, but the -serpent of doubt gnawed at my heart.</p> - -<p>We have forgotten that it was a woman who gave birth to Christ and -followed him humbly to Golgotha. We have forgotten that it was woman -who was mother of all the saints and of all the heroes of the past. We -have forgotten the value of woman in our vile lust and have degraded -her for our pleasure and turned her into a household drudge. And that -is why she no longer gives birth to saviors of life, but only bare, -mutilated children, the fruit of our own weakness.</p> - -<p>She told me about the monastery. She was not the only one who was sent -in there by force. Suddenly she said to me, caressingly:</p> - -<p>"I have a good friend here, a pure girl, from a rich family. And, -oh, if you would only know how difficult it is for her to live here. -Perhaps you could make her with child also. Then they would drive her -forth from here and she would go to her godmother."</p> - -<p>"Good God!" I thought, "another one in misery!"</p> - -<p>And again my faith in the omniscience of God and the righteousness of -his laws was broken into. How could one place man in misery that laws -might triumph?</p> - -<p>Christa whispered low in my ear: "If only you could help her also!"</p> - -<p>Her words killed my doubts and I was ready to kiss her feet, for -I understood that only a pure woman, who appreciated the value of -motherhood, could speak like that.</p> - -<p>I confessed my doubts to her. She pushed me from her and wept low in -the darkness, and I dared not comfort her.</p> - -<p>"Do you think I had no qualms or shame in calling you?" she said to me -reproachfully. "You, who are so strong and handsome? Was it easy for me -to beg a caress from a man as if it were alms? Why did I go to you? I -saw a man who was stern, whose eyes were serious, who spoke little and -had little to do with young nuns. Your temples are gray. Moreover, I do -not know why, I believed you to be true and good. But when you spoke to -me that first time so unkindly, I wept. 'I was mistaken,' I thought to -myself. But later, thank God, I decided to call you."</p> - -<p>"Forgive me," I said to her.</p> - -<p>She kissed me. "God will forgive you."</p> - -<p>Here the old woman knocked on the door and whispered:</p> - -<p>"It is time to part. They will ring matins soon." When she led me along -the corridors she said:</p> - -<p>"Will you give me a ruble?"</p> - -<p>I could have struck her.</p> - -<p>I lived about five days with Christa. It was impossible to stay longer, -for the choir singer and the neophyte began to bother me too much. -Besides, I felt the need of being alone to reflect on this incident.</p> - -<p>How could they forbid women to bear children if such was their wish, -and if children have been and always will be the harbingers of a new -life, the bearers of new strength?</p> - -<p>There was another reason for my having to fly. Christa showed me her -friend. She was a slim young girl, with blonde curly hair and blue -eyes and resembled my Olga. Her little face was pure, and she looked -out upon the world with profound sadness. I was drawn toward her, and -Christa urged me on.</p> - -<p>But this was a different matter. Christa was no longer a girl; but -Julia was innocent, and her husband should also be innocent.</p> - -<p>I had no longer faith in my purity nor did I know what I really was. It -did not matter with Christa, but with the other my self-doubt had the -power to interfere. Why, I do not know, but it had that power.</p> - -<p>I said good-by to Christa. She wept a little and asked me to write to -her; said she would want to let me know when she was with child, and -I gave her an address. Soon after I wrote her. She answered with a -letter of good news, and I wrote her again. She was silent.</p> - -<p>About a year and a half later, in Zadona, I received a letter. It had -lain a long time in the post-office. She told me that she gave birth -to a child, a son; that she called him Matvei; that he was happy and -healthy; that she lived with her aunt, and that her uncle was dead. He -had drunk himself to death.</p> - -<p>"Now," she wrote, "I am my own mistress, and if you will come you will -be received with joy."</p> - -<p>I had a desire to see my son and my accidental wife, but by this time I -had found a true road for myself and I did not go to her.</p> - -<p>"I cannot now," I wrote. "I will come later."</p> - -<p>Afterward she married a merchant who sold books and engravings, and -went to live in Ribinsk.</p> - -<p>In Christa I saw for the first time a person who had no fear in her -soul and who was ready to fight for herself with all her strength. But -at that time I did not appreciate the great value of this trait.</p> - -<p>After the incident with Christa I went to work in the city; but life -there was distasteful to me. It was narrow and oppressive. I did not -like the artisans. They gave their souls nakedly and openly into the -power of the masters. Each one seemed to cry out by his action:</p> - -<p>"Here, devour my body! Drink my blood! I have no room on this earth for -myself!"</p> - -<p>It was unpleasant for me to be with them. They drank, they swore at -each other over a bagatelle, they sang their sad songs and burned at -their labor night and day, and their masters warmed their fat marrows -by them.</p> - -<p>The bakery was close and dirty; the men slept there like dogs, and -vodka and passion were their only pleasures. When I spoke to them about -the false arrangement of our life they listened, grew sorrowful and -agreed with me. But when I said that we had to seek God, they sighed -and my words flowed past them.</p> - -<p>At times, for some unknown reason, they made fun of me, and did it with -malice.</p> - -<p>I do not like cities. The incessant noise and traffic are unbearable to -me, and the city people, with their insane business, remained strangers.</p> - -<p>There were drinking places enough, and a superabundance of churches. -The houses rose like mountains, but to live in them was difficult. The -people were many, but each one lived for himself; each one was tied to -his work, and his life ran along on one thread, like a dog on a string.</p> - -<p>I heard weariness in every sound. Even the chimes rang out without -hope, and I felt in my whole soul that things were not created for -this. It was not right.</p> - -<p>At times I laughed at myself. What kind of a leader is this that has -arisen among you? But though I laughed, it was not with joy, for I saw -only error in everything, and since I could not understand, it was all -the more oppressive to me. I sank into the depths.</p> - -<p>At night I remembered my wandering and freer life, especially my nights -in the open fields. In the fields the earth is round and clear and -dear to your heart. You lie on her as in the palm of a hand, small and -simple like a child, clothed in a warm shadow and covered by the starry -sky, floating with it past the stars. You feel your tired body filled -with a strong perfume of plants and flowers, and it seems to you that -you lie in a cradle, and that an unseen hand rocks it and puts you to -sleep. The shadows float past and brush the tops of the plants, there -is a murmuring and whispering around you, and somewhere a marmot comes -out from its hole and whispers low.</p> - -<p>Far off on the horizon a dark form arises. Perhaps it is a horse in -the night. He stands for a second, then vanishes into the sea of warm -darkness. Then something else arises, now in another place, another -form. And so the whole night long, the guardians of earthly sleep, the -loving shadows of the summer nights, silently come and go in the fields.</p> - -<p>You feel that near you, in the whole sphere, all life has drawn back, -resting in a light slumber. And your conscience hurts. Yet you continue -to crush the plants with the weight of your body. A night-bird flies -noiselessly, a piece of earth is broken off and becomes alive, and -winged with its desires, seeks to fulfil them. Mice rustle through -the grass; sometimes a small, soft thing runs quickly across your -hand. You start, and you feel still deeper the abundance of life; that -the earth itself is alive underneath you, is near to you and closely -related to you. You hear her breathe, and you wonder what is the dream -she is having, and what strength is quietly being born in her breast. -How will she look upon the sun to-morrow? In what way will she rejoice -him, his beautiful and beloved one?</p> - -<p>You lie on her breast and your body grows and you drink the warm, -perfumed milk of your dear mother, and you see yourself completely and -forever the child of the earth. With gratitude you think of her, "Oh, -my beloved earth!"</p> - -<p>Unseen torrents of wholesome strength pour from the earth and streams -of spicy perfumes float in the air. The earth is like a censer to the -heavens, and you both the fire and the incense. The stars burn ardently -that they may show all their beauty before the rising of the sun, and -love and sleep fill and caress you. The bright light of hope passes -warmly through your soul. "Somewhere there exists a sublime God."</p> - -<p>"Seek and thou shalt find." That is well said, and we should not forget -these words, for in truth they are worthy of the human mind.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h4> - - -<p>As soon as spring came to the city I started out to tramp to Siberia, -for I had heard that country highly praised, but on my way I was -stopped by a man who strengthened my soul for the rest of my life and -showed me the true path to God.</p> - -<p>I met him on the road between Perm and Verkhotour.</p> - -<p>I was lying on the edge of a wood and had built a fire to boil water. -It was noon, very hot, and the air was filled with a rosinlike woody -smell, oily and sappy. It was difficult to breathe. Even the birds felt -hot, and they hid themselves in the depth of the wood and sang there -happily while they arranged their lives.</p> - -<p>It was quiet on the edge of the wood. It seemed to me that everything -would soon melt underneath the sun and that the trees and the rocks and -my own stultified body would flow in a many-colored, thick stream upon -the earth.</p> - -<p>A man was approaching, coming from the Perm side, singing in a loud, -trembling voice. I raised my head and listened. I saw a little pilgrim, -in a white cassock, with a tea-kettle at his belt and a calf-skin -knapsack and a sauce-pan on his back. He walked briskly and nodded and -smiled to me from afar.</p> - -<p>He was the usual pilgrim. There are many such, and all of them are -harmful. Making pilgrimages is a paying business for them. They are -boorish and ignorant and are inveterate liars and drunkards, and are -not beyond stealing. I disliked them from the bottom of my heart.</p> - -<p>He came up to me, took off his cap, shook his head, and his hair danced -drolly, while he chattered like a magpie.</p> - -<p>"Peace to you, young man. What heat! It is twenty-two degrees hotter -than hell."</p> - -<p>"Are you long from there?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"About six hundred years."</p> - -<p>His voice was vibrant and gay, his head small, his forehead high, and -his face was covered with fine wrinkles, like a spider-web. His gray -beard looked clean and his brown eyes shone with gold, like a young -man's.</p> - -<p>"He is a merry dog," I thought to myself.</p> - -<p>But he continued chattering. "The Urals; there is where you find -beauty! The Lord is a great master in decorating the earth. He knows -how to arrange the woods and the trees and the mountains well."</p> - -<p>He took his tramping gear off, moving quickly and briskly. He saw that -my kettle was boiling over and he lifted it off the fire, and asked -like an old comrade:</p> - -<p>"Shall I pour out my tea, or will we drink yours?" Before I had time -to answer, he added: "Well, let's drink mine. I've got good tea. A -merchant gave it to me. It's expensive."</p> - -<p>I smiled. "You're spry," I said to him.</p> - -<p>"That's nothing," he answered. "I am nearly dead from the heat. But -wait till I'm rested. Then I will crease out your wrinkles for you."</p> - -<p>There was something about him which reminded me of Savelko, and I -wanted to joke with him. But in about five minutes I listened to his -words open-mouthed. They were strangely familiar; yet unheard-of, and -it seemed to me that my own heart, not he, was singing the joy of the -sunny days:</p> - -<p>"Look! Is this not a holiday? Is it not paradise? The mountains rise -toward the sun, rejoicing, and the woods climb to the summits of the -hills, and the little blades of grass under your feet strive winged up -toward the light of life. All sing psalms of joy, but you, man, you, -master of the earth, why do you sit here, morose?"</p> - -<p>"What strange bird is that?" I asked myself. But I said to him, trying -to draw him out:</p> - -<p>"But what if I am filled with unhappy thoughts?" He pointed to the -earth. "What is that?"</p> - -<p>"The earth."</p> - -<p>"No. Look higher."</p> - -<p>"You mean the grass?"</p> - -<p>"Higher still."</p> - -<p>"The shadow?"</p> - -<p>"It is the shadow of your body," he said, "and your thoughts are the -shadow of our soul. What are you afraid of?"</p> - -<p>"I am afraid of nothing."</p> - -<p>"You are lying. If you are not afraid, your thoughts would be bold. -Unhappiness gives birth to fear, and fear comes from lack of faith. -That is the way it is. Drink some tea."</p> - -<p>He poured tea into the cups and spoke without interruption:</p> - -<p>"It seems to me that I have seen you before. Were you ever in Valaan?"</p> - -<p>"I was."</p> - -<p>"When? No, it was not there. It seems to me that you were red-headed -when I saw you there. You have a striking face. It must have been in -Solofki that I saw you."</p> - -<p>"I was never in Solofki."</p> - -<p>"You were never there? That is too bad. It is an ancient monastery and -very beautiful. You ought to go there."</p> - -<p>"Then you never saw me before?" I said, and it hurt me to find it so.</p> - -<p>"What is the difference?" he cried out. "If I didn't see you before, I -see you now; and at that time the other one must have resembled you. -Isn't that just the same?"</p> - -<p>I laughed. "What do you mean, 'just the same'?"</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"Because I am I, and the other one is the other one."</p> - -<p>"Are you better than he?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"I don't know either."</p> - -<p>I looked at him and was overcome with impatience. I wanted him to speak -and speak without end. He poured out his tea and continued talking -hastily:</p> - -<p>"Yes, the other one was a one-eyed fellow, and it made him wretched. -All the lame and the crippled, whether in body or in mind, are the -essence of egoism. 'I am crippled,' they say, or 'I am lame; but you -people, don't you dare notice it.' He was that kind of a fellow. -He said to me,' All people are rascals. When they see that I have -one eye they say to me, "you are one-eyed." That is why they are -scoundrels.' 'My dear boy,' I said to him, 'you are a scoundrel and a -rascal yourself, and perhaps a fool also. You can take your choice. -Understand this: The important thing is not how people look at you but -how you look at people. That is why, my friend, we become one-eyed or -blind—because we look at other people, hunting for their dark spots -and put out our own light in their darkness. If you would light up the -other's darkness with your light, the world would be pleasant for you. -Man sees no good in any one else but himself, that is why the whole -world is a wretched wilderness for him.'"</p> - -<p>He laughed and looked at me, and I listened to him as one who is lost -in the wood at night and hears a far-off bell and is afraid that he -made a mistake; that perhaps it is only the cry of an owl.</p> - -<p>I understood that he had seen much; that he had overcome much in -himself. But it seemed to me that he did not think much of me, that he -was joking with me, and that his young eyes made fun of me. Since my -experience with Anthony I seldom trust a man's smile any longer.</p> - -<p>I asked him who he was.</p> - -<p>"I am called Jehudiel. I am a cheerful idiot for others and a good -friend to myself."</p> - -<p>"Are you from the clergy?"</p> - -<p>"I was a priest for some time, but was unfro'cked and was put in a -monastery at Suzdal for six years. You want to know why? Because I -preached sermons in church which the people, in the simplicity of -their souls, interpreted too literally. They were whipped for it and I -was convicted. And thus the affair ended. What did I preach? I don't -remember now. It was a long time ago, eighteen years, and one can -forget in that time. I have had various thoughts but none of them ever -came to anything."</p> - -<p>He laughed and in each wrinkle of his face the laughter played. He -looked about him as if the mountains and the woods were created for him.</p> - -<p>When it became cooler we went on farther together, and on the way he -asked me about myself.</p> - -<p>"Who are you?"</p> - -<p>Again, like that time before Anthony, I wished to place my former days -before my eyes and to look upon their checkered face. I spoke about -my childhood, about Larion and Savelko, and the old man laughed and -shouted.</p> - -<p>"Eh, what good people! The Lord's fools, what! Those were dear, true -flowers of the Russian soil, real God-loving ones."</p> - -<p>I did not understand this praise and his joy looked strange to me, but -he could hardly walk from laughter. He stopped, threw his head back and -shouted and called straight up to heaven, as if he had a friend there -with whom he wished to share his joy. I said to him kindly:</p> - -<p>"You resemble Savelko somewhat."</p> - -<p>"Resemble!" he cried. "It is always good," he said, "to resemble some -one. Eh, dear boy, if only the orthodox church had not ruined us ages -ago, how different it would be for the living ones on the Russian soil -now."</p> - -<p>His speech was dark to me.</p> - -<p>I told him about Titoff. He seemed to see my father-in-law before his -eyes and he expressed himself freely about him.</p> - -<p>"Such a rascal! I have seen many such. They are rapacious bugs, but -foolish and cowardly."</p> - -<p>When he heard my story about Anthony, he became thoughtful and then -said:</p> - -<p>"So, that was a doubting Thomas. Well, not every Thomas is a genius. -Some of them are stupidity itself."</p> - -<p>He drove a bumble-bee from him and lectured it. "Go away, go away from -here. Such impoliteness, to fly straight into the eyes. The devil take -you!"</p> - -<p>I listened to his words attentively, missing nothing. It seemed to me -that they were children of deep thought. I spoke to him as before a -confessor, except that I hesitated in mentioning God. I was afraid, and -I regretted something. God's image had become tarnished in my soul at -this time, and I wanted to polish it from the dust of the days, and I -saw that I cleaned up to the hollow places and my heart shuddered with -pain.</p> - -<p>The old man nodded his head and encouraged me.</p> - -<p>"Never mind; don't be afraid. If you keep silent you only lie to -yourself, not to me. Speak. Regret nothing. For if you destroy, you -will create something new."</p> - -<p>He responded to my words like an echo and I became more and more at -ease with him.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a></h4> - - -<p>Night overtook us.</p> - -<p>"Stop," he said, "let us find a place to rest."</p> - -<p>We found a shelter underneath a large rock which had been torn away -from its mother mountain, and the brush grew upon it, weaving itself -into a dark carpet underneath. We lay down in its warm shadow and built -a fire and boiled tea. I asked him: "Father, what were you telling me?"</p> - -<p>He smiled. "I will tell you everything I know. Only don't seek for -assertions in my words. I don't want to teach, but only to relate. -Only those people assert who are afraid of the paths of life, for whom -the growth of truth is dangerous. They see that truth burns ever more -brightly since men have lit its flames more and more in their hearts, -they see it and are afraid. They quickly take a little truth, as much -as is advantageous to them, and press it together into a small roll and -cry to the whole world: 'Here is truth; pure spiritual food, and for -all ages unchangeable,' and they sit, the cursed ones, upon the face of -truth and strangle it, clutching at its throat, and hinder the growth -of its strength in every possible way—they are enemies to us and to -all beings. I can say one thing: that is the way it is to-day; but -how it will be to-morrow I don't know. For you see, to-day there is no -true, lawful master in life. He has not come yet. I do not know how he -will arrange things when he comes; what plans he will establish and -what suppress, and what temples he will cause to be built. The apostle -Paul once said, 'All is for the best,' and many have accepted these -words. But they who have confirmed them are without strength, for they -have remained in one place. The stone is without strength. Why? Because -of its immobility, brother. It is not right to say to man, 'stand -here,' but always, 'go farther and farther.'"</p> - -<p>For the first time in my life I heard such speech and it sounded -strange to me. Here was a man who negated himself while I tried to -ratify myself.</p> - -<p>"Who is this master?" I asked. "The Lord?"</p> - -<p>The old man smiled. "No," he answered. "It is some one nearer us. I do -not want to name him. It is better that you yourself divine it. They -believe strongest in Christ who meet Him first and have Him in their -hearts; and it is by the strength of their faith that they raised Him -to the height of Godhood."</p> - -<p>He held me as before a closed door, and did not open it, or tell me -what was hidden behind it. Impatience and pain grew in me and the words -of the old man seemed dark. From time to time sparks flashed from -his words, but they only blinded me and did not light the darkness -in my soul. The night was moonlight, and black shadows surrounded -us. The wood overhead crawled silently up to the mountains, and over -the mountain tops, between the branches of the trees, the stars shone -like lighted birds. A nearby stream murmured. From time to time an owl -called in the wood, and over all the old man's words lived quietly in -the night.</p> - -<p>A strange old man! He caught a little insect which was crawling on his -cheek and he held it in the palm of his hand and asked it:</p> - -<p>"Where are you going, fool? Go, run in the grass, little creature."</p> - -<p>I liked it, for I, too, loved all insects, and I was interested in the -secret life which they led among the grass and the flowers.</p> - -<p>I asked several questions of the old man, for I wanted him to -speak plainly and more concisely, but I noticed that he evaded my -problems. In fact, he jumped over them. I liked his lively face. The -red reflection of the fire played lovingly over him, and everything -vibrated with the peaceful joy which I so desired.</p> - -<p>I envied him. He had lived twice as long as I, or even more, but his -soul was clear.</p> - -<p>"One man told me," I said to him, "that faith comes from imagination. -What do you say?"</p> - -<p>"I say," he answered, "that that man did not know what he was talking -about, for faith is a great creative feeling. It is born from the -overflow of the life-forces in man. Its strength is enormous and it -incites the youthful human spirit, driving it to action, for man is -bound and narrowed by his activities, and the outside world hinders -him in every way. Everything demands that he produce bread and iron, -but not the live treasure which is in the lap of his soul. He does not -yet understand how to take advantage of this treasure. He is afraid -of the uproar in his soul. He creates monstrosities and he fears the -reflection of his turbid spirit. He does not understand its being and -he bows to the forms of faith, to his own shadows, I might say."</p> - -<p>I did not understand him that minute, but for some reason I became -deeply enraged, and I thought to myself: "Now, I will not let you go -away from this place before you answer the root of the question." I -asked him sternly:</p> - -<p>"Why do you evade the question of God?"</p> - -<p>He looked at me, frowned and said:</p> - -<p>"But, my dear boy, I am speaking about Him all the time. Do you not -feel it?"</p> - -<p>He stood on his knees and the fire played on him. He held my hand and -spoke low and impressively:</p> - -<p>"Who is God, the worker of miracles? Is He our Father, or is He the -child of our soul?"</p> - -<p>I remember that I started and looked about me, for I felt -uncomfortable. Insanity spoke in the old man.</p> - -<p>Dark shadows lay about and I listened, while the murmur of the woods -crept around us, drowning the weak crackle of the burning coal and the -quiet sound of the river. I, too, wanted to kneel.</p> - -<p>Then he spoke loudly, as if in argument:</p> - -<p>"Man did not create God in weakness, no; but from an overflow of his -strength. And He does not live outside of us, but within us. We have -torn Him out of us in our terror at the problems of our soul, and we -have placed Him above us with a desire to bind our pride, which is ever -restless at this binding. I said that they have turned strength into -weakness; they have hindered its growth by force. They have conceived -an ideal of perfection too hurriedly, and it has resulted in harm and -pain to us. Man is divided into two classes: The first are the eternal -creators of God; the second are forever slaves of an overpowering -desire to master the former and to reign over the whole earth. They -have captured power, and it is they who maintain that God exists -outside of man; that He is an enemy of the people, a judge and a master -of the earth. They have disfigured the face of the soul of Christ and -have falsified His commandments, for the real Christ is against them, -and is against the mastering of man by his neighbor."</p> - -<p>He spoke, and I felt that a painful tooth gnawed in my soul. I wanted -to tear it out, but it hurt, and I wanted to shout, "That is not the -right!"</p> - -<p>There was a holy light in his face and he seemed intoxicated and -transported with joy. I saw that his words were insane, but I loved -the old man through the pain and the yearning in my heart, and I -listened to his speech passionately.</p> - -<p>"But the creators of God are alive and immortal, and within them, -secretly and earnestly, they will create God anew. And it is about Him -you are dreaming; about a god of beauty and wisdom, of righteousness -and love."</p> - -<p>His words agitated me and lifted me to my feet and gave me a weapon in -my hands. Around me the light shadows shimmered and brushed my face -with their wings. I was terrified, the earth swam about me, and I -thought to myself:</p> - -<p>"Perhaps it is true that the devil tempts man with beautiful words. -Perhaps this sly old man is plaiting a noose for me, to catch me in the -trap of the greatest sin of all."</p> - -<p>"Listen," I said; "who are the creators of God? Who is the master? Whom -do you await?"</p> - -<p>He laughed caressingly, like a woman, and answered:</p> - -<p>"The creators of God are the people. They are the great -martyrs—greater than the ones the church has praised. They are God, -the creators of miracles—the immortal people! I believe in their soul; -I have faith in their strength. They are the one and certain basis of -life; they are the father of all gods that have been and that will be."</p> - -<p>"A mad old man," I thought to myself.</p> - -<p>Up to now it seemed to me that, though slowly, still I was going -toward the heights. More than once his words were like a fiery finger -that pointed to my soul, and I felt that the burn and the sting were -wholesome; but now my heart became suddenly heavy, and I remained -standing in the middle of the road, bitterly disappointed. Many fires -burned in my breast. I suffered, yet I was incomprehensibly happy. I -was bewildered and afraid.</p> - -<p>"Is it possible," I asked, "that you are speaking of the peasants?"</p> - -<p>He answered loudly and emphatically: "Yes; of the whole working people -of the earth, of all its strength—the one and eternal source of the -creation of God. Soon the will of the people will awake, and that great -force, divided, will unite. Many are already seeking the means by which -all the powers of the earth shall be harmonized into one, and from -which shall be created the holy and beautiful all-embracing God of the -earth."</p> - -<p>He spoke loudly, as if not only I, but the mountains and the woods and -all that lived, watching in the night, should hear him. He spoke and -quivered, like a bird which is ready to fly, and it seemed to me that -all this was a dream and that this dream lowered me.</p> - -<p>I recalled to my mind the image of my God and placed before His face -the dark rows of enslaved, confused people. Did they create God? I -remembered their petty meanness, their cowardly avarice, their bodies -stooped with degradation and toil, their eyes which were dulled with -sorrow, their spiritual stammering and their dumb thoughts, and all -their superstitions, and could they, these insects, create a new God?</p> - -<p>Wrath and bitter laughter disturbed my heart. I felt that the old man -had stolen something from me, and I said to him: "Ah, father, you have -done mischief in my soul, like a goat in a garden, and this is all the -result of your words. Do you dare to talk with every one like that? It -is a great sin in my eyes. You should have pity for people. They seek -comfort, and you go about sowing doubt."</p> - -<p>He smiled. "I think you are on the same road as I am."</p> - -<p>His smile was offensive to me. "It's a lie!" I answered. "I will never -place man side by side with God."</p> - -<p>"You don't have to," he said. "Do not place him there, for in that way -you will put a master over yourself. I am not speaking to you about a -man, but of the whole strength of the spirit of the earth—about the -people."</p> - -<p>I became enraged. This "God, creator," in rags, filthy, always drunk, -who was beaten and flogged, became disgusting to me.</p> - -<p>"Keep still," I said. "You are a crazy old blasphemer. Who are the -people? They are dirty in body and in thoughts; beggars in mind and in -food, and ready to sell their souls for a kopeck."</p> - -<p>Here something strange happened. He jumped to his feet and shouted, -"Shut up!" He waved his arms, stamped his feet, and he looked as though -he were ready to beat me. When he had been in a prophetic mood I stood -far from him, and he seemed funny, but now the human came nearer to me.</p> - -<p>"Shut up!" he cried. "You granary mouse! You have rotten noble's blood -flowing through you, that is plain. You, who were abandoned to the -people! Do you know about whom you are speaking? You are all alike. You -proud, lazy land robbers! You don't know against whom you are barking, -you scrofulous dogs! You have plundered and robbed the people; you have -sat on their backs, and you swear at them that they don't run fast -enough!"</p> - -<p>He jumped around me and his shadow fell on me, whipping my face coldly, -and I moved away from him, surprised and fearful lest he strike me. -I was twice as big as he was, and ten times as strong, but somehow -I had no desire to stop the man. It was evident that he forgot that -night was around us, and that we were in the wilderness, and that if -I misunderstood him he would lie there alone in that place, without -help. I remembered how that frightened, green Archbishop swore at me -that time, and crazy Misha and other people of the old faith; but here -was a man who was insulting me, and his wrath burned with a different -fire. The others were stronger than I, but in their words I heard fear. -This man was weak, but fearless. And he shouted at me, like a child or -like a mother. His wrath was strangely loving, like the first storm -in spring. I was confused and did not understand the boldness of the -old man, and though his anger was amusing, still it hurt me that I so -enraged him. He scolded insultingly, and I did not like to be called -"abandoned," but his wrath pleased me, for I understood that here was a -man angered, believing truly in his own right, and such wrath does the -soul good. There is much love in it, and sweet food for the heart.</p> - -<p>I lay at his feet and he shouted at me from above. "What do you know -about the people, you blind fool? Do you know their history? Read their -life, and you will find them higher than all the saints, this father -of ours, this greatest martyr of all—the People. Then, to your great -fortune, you will understand who it is that is before you, and the -strength that grows around you, you homeless vagabond, in a strange -land! Do you know what Russia is? Do you know what Greece is, which -is called Hellas? Do you know Rome? Do you know by whose will and by -whose spirit all governments were built? Do you know on whose bones -the temples were erected? Do you know with whose tongues the wise men -speak? All that is on the earth and all that is in your mind was made -by the People, and the nobility have only polished up that which they -made."</p> - -<p>I remained silent. I liked to see a man who was not afraid to defend -his right. He sat down, damp and red in the face, and breathed heavily. -I saw that there were tears in his eyes, and this surprised me, for -whenever my former teachers were offended with me they did not shed -tears. He cried out:</p> - -<p>"Listen, and I will tell you about the Russian people."</p> - -<p>"You had better rest," I said.</p> - -<p>"Keep still," he said to me, threatening me with his hand. "Keep still, -or I will kill you."</p> - -<p>I could hardly contain myself, and laughed outright.</p> - -<p>"Dear grandfather," I said, "you are an unspeakably marvelous old man. -Pardon me, in Christ's name, if I have offended you."</p> - -<p>"You fool! How could you offend me? But you have spoken badly about the -great people, you unhappy soul. It is advantageous for the nobles to -slander the people. They have to stifle their conscience, for they are -strangers on this earth. But you—who are you?"</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a></h4> - - -<p>It was good to look at him when he talked thus. He became dignified -and even stern. His voice grew calmer and deeper, and he spoke evenly -and in cadences, as if he were reading from the Apostles. His face was -turned upward, his eyes were round and big, and he was on his knees, -but he seemed taller to me than when he stood. At first I listened to -his words with an incredulous smile, but soon I remembered the Russian -history which Anthony gave me, and it again opened before my eyes. He -recited the marvelous fairy tale to me, and I compared this fairy tale -with the book. The words tallied, but the sense was different. He came -to the decline of the Kiev government.</p> - -<p>"Have you heard it?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, thank you."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, know that those heroes never existed; that it was the -people themselves who incarnated their exploits into characters by -which to remember their great labor in the building up of the Russian -soil." Then he continued talking about the Sudzalsky land.</p> - -<p>I remember that somewhere behind the mountains the sun rose and -the night hid itself in the woods and woke the birds. Rosy masses -of clouds hung over us and we lay on the dewy grass of the rock, -one resuscitating the past, the other astonished, counting up the -immeasurable labors of men and hardly believing the tale about the -conquest of the hostile woody soil.</p> - -<p>The old man seemed to see everything. He heard the hammering of heavy -axes in strong hands; he saw the people drain the swamps and build up -cities and monasteries; he saw them go ever farther along the cold -rivers, into the depths of the thick forests; he saw them conquer -the savage earth; he saw them render it beautiful. The princes, the -lords of the people, cut and minced this earth into little pieces -and fought against each other with the fists of the people whom they -afterward robbed. Then from the steppes came the Tartars, but there was -no defender of the people's liberty to arise from among the princes. -There was no honor, no strength, no mind. They sold the people and made -merchandise of them with the Khans as if they were cattle, and they -bought princely power with the blood of the peasants, to have power -over these same peasants. Later, when they had taught the Tartars how -to govern, they sent each other to the Khans for slaughter.</p> - -<p>The night around us was friendly and wise like an elder sister. The -voice of the old man gave out from weariness. The sun saw him, but he -went still farther into the past, and showed me the truth with flaming -words.</p> - -<p>"Do you see," he asked me, "what the people have done and what they -have suffered up to the very day, when you abused them with your stupid -words? I have told you mostly of that which they did through another's -will, but after I am rested I will tell you on what their souls have -lived and how they have sought God."</p> - -<p>He coiled up on the rock and fell asleep like a little child. I could -not sleep, but sat there as if surrounded by burning coals.</p> - -<p>It was already morning. The sun was high and the birds were singing, -full-throated. The wood bathed in the dew and rustled, meeting the day -friendly and green. People walked along the road; ordinary, every-day -people. They walked with bowed heads and I could not see anything new -in them. They had not grown in any way in my eyes. My instructor slept -and snored and I sat next to him lost in thought. Men passed by one -after the other, looked askance at us and did not even bow their heads -to my salute.</p> - -<p>"Is it possible," I asked myself, "that these are the offspring of -those righteous ones, those builders of the earth about whom I have -just heard?"</p> - -<p>The dream and the reality became confused in my head, yet I understood -that this meeting meant very much for me. The old man's words about -God, the Son of the spirit of the people, disturbed me, and I could not -reconcile myself to them, not knowing any other spirit except that one -which was living in me. I racked my mind for all the peasants and the -people I had known and tried to remember their words. They had many -sayings, but their thoughts were poor. On the other hand I saw the dark -exile of life, the bitter toil for bread, the winters of famine, the -everlasting sadness of empty days, all the degradation which man has -suffered and every outrage against his soul. Where could God be in this -life? Where was there room for Him?</p> - -<p>The old man slept. I wanted to wake him and shout "Speak!"</p> - -<p>Soon he awoke, blinked his eyes and smiled.</p> - -<p>"Ah," he said, "the sun is already near noon. It is time for me to go."</p> - -<p>"Where will you go in such heat?" I asked. "We have bread, tea and -sugar. Besides, I can't let you go. You must give me what you have -promised."</p> - -<p>Then he became thoughtful and said:</p> - -<p>"Matvei, you should drop your wandering. It is too late, or perhaps too -early for you. You have to learn. It is time for you to learn."</p> - -<p>"Is it not too late?"</p> - -<p>"Look at me," he answered. "I am fifty-three years old, and up to this -day I learn from some little children."</p> - -<p>"Whose children?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"They are some children I know. You should live with them a year or -two. You ought to go to the factory. It is not very far from here, -about a hundred versts, where I have good friends."</p> - -<p>"First tell me what you wanted to say, and then I shall think where I -am to go."</p> - -<p>We walked together on the path alongside the road and again I heard his -clear voice and his strange words.</p> - -<p>"Christ was the first true people's God, born from the soul of the -people like the phoenix from the flames."</p> - -<p>He trembled all over and waved his hands before his face as if he -wanted to catch new words from the air, and continued shouting:</p> - -<p>"For a long time the people carried various men on their shoulders. -Without question they gave them of their labor and their freedom, -placed them above themselves and waited humbly for them to see from -their height the paths of righteousness on earth. But these chosen -ones of the people, when they reached the height, became drunk and -degraded by their power and remained above, forgetting who placed -them there, and became a heavy burden on the earth instead of a joy. -When the people saw that the children who were fed by their blood -were their enemies, they lost their faith in them and abandoned these -powerful ones, who had to fall and the power and the strength of -their government decayed. The people understood that the law was not -that one from a family should be raised and after having fed him on -their liberty that they should live by his mind, but that the true law -was that all should be raised to one height and that each one should -look upon the paths of life with his own eyes; and the day when the -consciousness of the inevitable equality of man arose in the people, -that day was the birth of Christ.</p> - -<p>"Many people have tried to realize their dreams of justice by creating -one live being, a common lord over all, and more than once various -people, urged on by this common thought, have tried to bind it with -strong words that it might live forever. And when all these thoughts -were mustered in one, a living God arose for them, the beloved child of -the people, Jesus Christ."</p> - -<p>That which he said about Christ, the Son of God, was near to me; but -about the people giving birth to Christ I could not understand. I told -him that, and he answered:</p> - -<p>"If you wish to know, you will understand. If you wish to believe, you -will know."</p> - -<p>We tramped together for three days, going slowly; he, teaching me all -the time and explaining the past to me. He recited the whole history -of the people from the beginning up to the present day; he told me of -the troubled times when the churches persecuted the jesters and of the -merry men who awakened the people's memory with their jokes and sowed -truth by them.</p> - -<p>"Do you understand," he asked me, "who this Savelko of yours was?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I understand."</p> - -<p>"Remember that small things come from large and that the large is made -up from small pieces."</p> - -<p>We came to Stephan Verkhatour. The old man said to me:</p> - -<p>"We must part here. My road lies with you no longer."</p> - -<p>I did not want to go away from him, but I understood that it was -necessary. My thoughts troubled me. I was agitated to the very depths -and my soul was furrowed as with a plow.</p> - -<p>"Why have you become thoughtful?" he asked me. "Go to the factory. Work -there and mix with my friends. It will be no loss to you, I assure you. -The people are intelligent. I learned from them, and you see I am no -fool."</p> - -<p>He wrote a little note and gave it to me.</p> - -<p>"Go there. I wish you no harm, believe me. The people are new-born and -alive. Don't you believe me?"</p> - -<p>"Our small eyes can see much," I answered, "but is that when they see -the truth?"</p> - -<p>"Look with all your might," he cried, "with all your heart, with all -your soul! Did I tell you to believe? I told you to learn and know."</p> - -<p>We kissed and he went away. He walked lightly, like a youth of twenty, -and as if some happiness awaited him. I became sad when I looked back -at this bird flying away from me, Heaven knows where, to sing his -song in new parts. My head was heavy; my thoughts raced like Little -Russians at market in the early morning, sleepy, awkward, slow, and in -no way able to make order. Everything became strangely confused. To my -thoughts there was another's conclusion and to this other's conclusion -my own beginning. It hurt me, yet it was funny, and I seemed all -changed within.</p> - -<p>When I went away from Verkhotour, I asked where the road led to, and -they answered to the Isetsky factory. That was where the old man had -wanted me to go, but I took a side road; I did not wish to go there. I -wanted to go to the villages and look around me.</p> - -<p>The people were gloomy and haughty and seemed to wish to speak with -no one. They looked about cautiously, as if they were afraid some one -would rob them.</p> - -<p>"Here are the God-creators," I said to myself, looking at some -pock-marked peasants. "I will ask them where this road leads to."</p> - -<p>"To the Isetsky factory."</p> - -<p>"What is it? Do all roads lead to that factory?" I asked myself, and -wandered through villages and woods, crawling like a beetle through -the grass, and seeing the factory from a distance. It smoked, but it -did not lure me. I felt as if I had lost half of myself and I did not -understand what I wanted. I was unhappy. A gray, idle pain filled -my soul and evil laughter and a great desire to insult everybody and -myself arose in me. Suddenly, without noticing it myself, I made up my -mind: "I'll enter the factory, damn it!"</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a></h4> - - -<p>I came into a filthy hell. In a hollow between mountains which were -covered with stumps of felled trees, buildings arose on the earth, from -the roofs of which tongues of flame shot forth. Tall chimney-stacks -rose toward the sky, from which smoke and steam poured out, staining -the earth with soot. There was a deafening noise of hammers, and a roar -and a wild squeaking and creaking of saws shot through the smoke-laden -air. Everywhere there was iron, wood, coal, smoke, steam, stench; and -in this pit, filled with every kind of miscellaneous thing, men worked -black as coal.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, old man," I said to myself, "you have sent me to a nice -place."</p> - -<p>It was the first time I had seen a factory near-to. I was deafened -by the extraordinary noise, and I breathed with difficulty. I went -through the streets seeking for the locksmith, Peter Jagikh. Everyone -I asked snarled back at me as if they had all quarreled with each -other in the morning and had not yet succeeded in calming themselves. -"God-creators!" I cried out to myself.</p> - -<p>I came upon a man who looked like a bear; dirty from head to foot. His -oily clothes shone with dirt in the sun, and I asked him if he knew -the locksmith, Peter Jagikh.</p> - -<p>"Who?"</p> - -<p>"Peter Jagikh."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"I want to see him."</p> - -<p>"Well, I am he."</p> - -<p>"How do you do?"</p> - -<p>"Well, how do you do? What do you want?"</p> - -<p>"I have a note to you."</p> - -<p>The man was taller than I, with a large beard, broad shoulders, and -heavily set. His face was sooty and his small, gray eyes could hardly -be seen from under his thick eyebrows. His cap was set far back on his -head and his hair was cut short. He looked like a peasant, yet not -entirely so. Evidently he read with great difficulty. His face was all -wrinkled and his mustache trembled. Suddenly his face cleared, his -white teeth shone, he opened his good, childish eyes and the skin in -his checks smoothed out.</p> - -<p>"Ah," he cried, "he is alive, God's bird! That's good. Go, my dear, to -the end of this street and turn to the left toward the wood. At the -foot of the mountain there is a house with green shutters. Ask for the -teacher. He is called Mikhail. He is my nephew. Show him the note. I -will come soon."</p> - -<p>He spoke like a soldier, giving his signal on a bugle. He made the -speech, waved his hand and went away.</p> - -<p>"He is kind and funny," I thought to myself. At the house an angular -boy in a cotton shirt and an apron, met me. His sleeves were rolled up; -his hands were white and thin. He read through the note and asked me:</p> - -<p>"Is Father Juna well?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, thank God."</p> - -<p>"Did he tell you when he will come to see us?"</p> - -<p>"He didn't say. Is he called Juna?"</p> - -<p>The young man looked at me suspiciously and began to read the note -again.</p> - -<p>"How then?" he asked me.</p> - -<p>"He said his name was Jehudiel."</p> - -<p>The young fellow smiled. "That is a nickname which I gave him."</p> - -<p>"Oh, the devil," I thought.</p> - -<p>His hair was straight and long like a deacons', his face pale. His eyes -were a watery blue and he looked as if he did not spring from this -dirty spot.</p> - -<p>He walked up and down the room and measured me with his eyes as if I -were a piece of cloth; and I did not like it.</p> - -<p>"Have you known Juna a long time?" he asked me.</p> - -<p>"Four days."</p> - -<p>"Four days," he repeated. "That's good."</p> - -<p>"Why good?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Just so," he answered, shrugging his shoulders. "Why do you wear an -apron?"</p> - -<p>"I am binding books," he said. "Soon my uncle will return and we will -have supper. Perhaps you would like to wash yourself after your trip?"</p> - -<p>I felt like teasing him. He was much too serious for his age.</p> - -<p>"Do people wash here?" I asked.</p> - -<p>He frowned. "How then?"</p> - -<p>"I have not seen any washed ones yet," I answered.</p> - -<p>He half closed his eyes, looked at me and answered calmly:</p> - -<p>"People do not idle here. They work; and there is no time to wash -often."</p> - -<p>I saw that I had struck the wrong man. I wanted to answer, but he -turned on his heel and went away. I felt foolish, sat down and looked -about me.</p> - -<p>The room was large and clean. In the corner there was a table set for -supper, and on the walls there were shelves with books. The books were -mostly secular, but there was also a Bible, the gospels and an old -Slavic psalm-book.</p> - -<p>I went out into the court and washed myself. The uncle entered, his cap -still farther back on his head, and he swung his arms and held his head -forward like a bull.</p> - -<p>"Well, I will wash myself," he said. "Pump some water for me."</p> - -<p>His voice was like that of a trumpet and both his hands together were -as large as a big soup tureen. When he had washed some of the soot off -his face, I saw that he had high cheek-bones and a skin like copper.</p> - -<p>We sat down to supper. They ate, talked about their own affairs and -did not ask me who I was or why I came. Still they offered me things -hospitably and looked at me in a friendly way. There was something very -solid about them, as if the earth was firm under their feet. I felt -like shaking it for them—why were they better than I?</p> - -<p>"Are you Old Believers?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"We?" the uncle replied. "No."</p> - -<p>"Then you are orthodox?"</p> - -<p>The nephew frowned and the uncle shrugged his shoulders and laughed.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps we have to show him our passports, Mikhail."</p> - -<p>I understood that I had acted foolishly, but I did not want to stop.</p> - -<p>"I did not want to see your passports," I said. "I wanted to see your -thoughts."</p> - -<p>"Thoughts? Right away, Your Excellency. Thoughts, forward!" And he -laughed like a stallion.</p> - -<p>Mikhail, who was making the tea, said calmly:</p> - -<p>"I know why you came. You are not the first one whom Juna has sent us. -He knows people and never sends empty men."</p> - -<p>The uncle felt my forehead with his palm and laughed:</p> - -<p>"Please look more gay. Don't show your trumps right away, or you may -lose."</p> - -<p>They evidently considered themselves men rich in soul and that I was a -beggar compared to them. They did not hurry to quench my hungry heart -with their wisdom. I became angry and wanted to quarrel, but I could -find no reason; and that angered me still more. I asked at random:</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by an empty man?"</p> - -<p>The uncle answered: "A man who can fill up with anything you wish."</p> - -<p>Suddenly Mikhail went up quietly to me and said, in a soft voice:</p> - -<p>"You believe in God?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>But I became confused at my answer. It was not true. Did I really -believe?</p> - -<p>Mikhail asked again:</p> - -<p>"And you respect people?"</p> - -<p>"No," I answered.</p> - -<p>"Don't you see," he said, "that they are created in the image of God?"</p> - -<p>The uncle, the devil take him, smiled like a copper basin in the sun.</p> - -<p>"With such people," I thought to myself, "one must argue sincerely -and if I should fall asunder in little pieces, they will gather me up -again."</p> - -<p>"When I look upon people," I said, "I doubt the power of God."</p> - -<p>Again it was not right. I doubted God before I ever saw the people.</p> - -<p>Mikhail looked at me thoughtfully, with wise eyes, and the uncle walked -heavily up and down the room, stroking his beard, and grunting low to -himself.</p> - -<p>It made me uneasy that I had to lower myself to lie before them. I saw -my soul with remarkable clearness and my thoughts raced through me -stupidly and alarmed like a frightened bee-hive. I began to drive them -out of me, irritated. I wished to empty myself.</p> - -<p>I spoke for a long time without connecting my words. I spoke at random -on purpose. If they were such wise people, let them gather the sense -themselves. I became tired and asked passionately: "How can you heal my -sick soul?"</p> - -<p>Mikhail answered low, without looking at me:</p> - -<p>"I do not consider you sick."</p> - -<p>The uncle laughed again, and it pealed out as if a demon had come in -through the roof.</p> - -<p>"To be sick," Mikhail continued, "is when a man is not conscious of -himself, but knows only his pain and lives in it. But you, it is plain, -have not lost yourself. You are seeking happiness in life, and only a -healthy man does that."</p> - -<p>"But why is there such pain in my soul then?" "Because you like it," he -answered.</p> - -<p>I gnashed my teeth. His calm was unbearable to me.</p> - -<p>"Do you know for sure," I asked, "that I like it?"</p> - -<p>He looked me straight in the eyes and drove his nails slowly into my -breast.</p> - -<p>"As an honest man, you ought to recognize," he said, "that your pain is -necessary to your soul. It places you above others and you esteem it as -something which separates you from others. Is it not so?"</p> - -<p>His Lenten face was dry and drawn, his eyes darkened, he stroked his -cheek with his hand, while he cleaned me hard, as one cleans copper -with sand.</p> - -<p>"You are evidently afraid to mingle with people for you unconsciously -think to yourself, 'Though they are ulcers, they are my own, and no one -has ulcers but I.'"</p> - -<p>I wanted to contradict him, but found no words. He was younger than I, -and weaker, and I did not believe that of the two I was the more stupid.</p> - -<p>The uncle laughed like a priest in a steam-bath.</p> - -<p>"But this does not separate you from people. You are mistaken," Mikhail -went on. "Every one thinks the same. That is why life is weak and -monstrous. Each one tries to go away from life and dig his own hole in -the ground and look out upon the earth from it alone. From a hole, life -seems low and futile, and it suits the isolated man to see life so. I -say it about those people who for some reason or other cannot sit on -the backs of their neighbors to drive them where they could eat tastier -food."</p> - -<p>His speech angered and offended me.</p> - -<p>"This vile life," he said, "unworthy of human reason, began on that -day when the first individual tore himself away from the miraculous -strength of the people, from the masses, from his mother, and -frightened by his isolation and his weakness, pitied himself and grew -to be a futile and evil master of petty desires, a mass which called -himself 'I.' It is this same 415 which is the worst enemy of man. In -its business of defending itself and asserting itself on this earth, -it has uselessly killed the strength of the soul, and its capacity of -creating spiritual welfare."</p> - -<p>It seemed to me that his speech was familiar to me and that the words -were those which I had waited for.</p> - -<p>"Poor in soul, the eye is powerless to create. It is deaf, blind and -dumb in life, and its goal is only self-defense, peace and comfort. -It creates the new and purely human only under compulsion, after -innumerable urgings from without and with great difficulty. It not only -does not value its brother 'I,' but hates him and persecutes him. It -is hostile because, remembering that it was born from the whole from -which it was broken off, the 'I' tries to unite the broken pieces and -to create anew a great unit."</p> - -<p>I listened, surprised. All this was clear to me; not only clear, but -even near and true. It seemed to me that I had long ago thought the -same, only without words. And now I had found words, and the thoughts -arranged themselves before me like steps on a ladder, which led ever -upward.</p> - -<p>I remembered Juna's speeches and they lived before my eyes, clear and -beautiful. But at the same time I was restless and uncomfortable, as -if I were standing on a block of ice in a river in the spring.</p> - -<p>The uncle had quietly left us alone. There was no fire in the room, the -night was moonlit, and in my soul, too, there was a moonlight mist.</p> - -<p>At midnight Mikhail stopped speaking and we went to sleep in a shed in -the courtyard, where we lay in the hay. He soon fell asleep, but I went -out to the gate, and sat down on some logs and gazed about me.</p> - -<p>The moon and two large stars strode carefully across the heavens. Over -the mountains against the blue sky the jagged wall of the wood could be -plainly seen. On the mountains was the hewn forest, and on the earth -black pits. Below, the factory greedily showed its red teeth. It hummed -and smoked and tongues of fire rose over the roofs and shot upward, but -could not tear themselves away and were drowned in the smoke. The air -smelled burnt. It was difficult to breathe.</p> - -<p>I thought of the bitter loneliness of man. Mikhail had spoken well. He -believed his own words and I saw truth in them. But why did they leave -me cold? My soul did not harmonize with the soul of this man. It stood -apart, as in a wilderness.</p> - -<p>Soon I noticed that I was thinking the thoughts of Juna and Mikhail and -that their thoughts lived powerfully within me, though still on the -surface, for at bottom I was still hostile and suspicious of them.</p> - -<p>"Where am I?" I asked. "And what am I?"</p> - -<p>I spun around in my perplexity like a top, and always faster, so that -the cloud storm roared in my ears.</p> - -<p>The whistle blew in the factory. At first it was thin and plaintive, -then it became louder and masterful.</p> - -<p>The morning looked out sleepily from the mountain and the night hurried -below, taking the thin veil off the trees quietly, folding it up and -hiding it in the hollows and the pits. The robbed earth stood out clear -to the eye. Everything was eaten out and plundered, as if some bold -giant had played in this hollow, tearing out strips of wood and giving -severe wounds to the earth.</p> - -<p>The factory was sunk in this basin, dirty, oily, covered with smoke and -puffing. Dark people dragged themselves to it from all sides and it -swallowed them up, one by one. "Creators of God," I thought to myself. -"What have they created?"</p> - -<p>The uncle came out into the court disheveled, stretching himself, -yawning, cracking his joints, and smiling at me.</p> - -<p>"Ah," he cried, "you are up!" Then he asked me kindly, "Or perhaps you -did not go to bed at all? Well, it does not matter. You will sleep -during the day. Come, let us drink tea."</p> - -<p>At tea he said to me: "There were nights when I, too, did not sleep, -brother. There was a time when I could have beaten every one I met. -Even before I was a soldier my soul was troubled, but in the service -they made me deaf. An officer gave me a blow on the ear. My right ear -is deaf. There was one <i>feldscher</i> who helped me, thanks to—"</p> - -<p>It was evident he wanted to say God, but he stopped, stroked his beard -and smiled. He seemed to me childish and there was something childish -in his eyes. They were so simple and credulous.</p> - -<p>"He was a very good man. He looked at me. 'What is the matter?' he -asked. 'Is this human life?' I answered. 'True,' he said, 'everything -ought to be changed. Peter Vasilief, let me teach you political -economy.' And he began. At first I did not understand anything. But -suddenly I understood the daily and eternal baseness in which we lived. -Then I nearly went out of my head with joy. 'Oh, you villains!' I -cried. That is the way science always suddenly unfolds itself. At first -you only hear new words and then there comes a moment when everything -unites and comes out into the light and that moment is the true birth -of man. Marvelous!"</p> - -<p>His face became happy and his eyes smiled softly. He nodded his shorn -head and said:</p> - -<p>"That is going to happen to you, too."</p> - -<p>It was pleasant to look at him. The child was strong in him and I -envied him.</p> - -<p>"Thirty-two years of my life I spent like a horse. It was disgraceful. -Well, I will make up for it as best I can. Only my mind is not very -quick. The mind is like the hands. It needs exercise. My hands are -cleverer than my head."</p> - -<p>I looked at him and thought, how is it that these people are not afraid -to speak about everything?</p> - -<p>"But for that matter," he continued, "Mishka has brains enough for -two. He has read very much. You wait till he forgets himself. The -factory priest called him 'an arch heretic.' Too bad his head is not -clear about God. That comes from his mother. My sister was a very -distinguished woman in religious matters. From Orthodox she went over -to the Old Believers, but the Old Believers did not admit her."</p> - -<p>As he spoke he got ready to go to work. He walked from one corner of -the room to the other. Everything about him shook. The chairs fell and -the floor bent under him as he walked. He was funny, yet pleasant to -look upon.</p> - -<p>"What kind of people are they?" I thought. Then I said aloud: "Can I -remain with you three days?"</p> - -<p>"Go ahead," he said; "three months if you wish. You are a strange -fellow. You are not in our way, thank God."</p> - -<p>Then he scratched his head and smiled apologetically.</p> - -<p>"The word God always comes to my mouth. It is from habit."</p> - -<p>Again the factory whistle blew, and the uncle went away. I went to -sleep in the shed. Mikhail lay there. He was frowning sternly, and his -hands were on his breast, his face was flushed. He was beardless and -without mustache, his cheekbones were high; in fact, he was all bones.</p> - -<p>"What kind of people are they?"</p> - -<p>And with this thought I fell asleep.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a></h4> - - -<p>I awoke. There was noise, whistling, hubbub, as if at a meeting of all -the devils. I looked out into the court. It was full of youngsters and -Mikhail was among them, in a white shirt, looking like a sailboat among -small canoes. He stood laughing with his head on one side, his mouth -wide open and his eyes twinkling. He in no way resembled the serious -Lenten young man of the night before.</p> - -<p>The children were dressed in blue, red and pink. They shone in the sun -as they jumped and shouted. Something drew me toward them and I crawled -out from the shed. One youngster noticed me and cried out:</p> - -<p>"Look, fellows, here is a mo-onk!" Like fire that had been set to a -heap of dry shavings, so the children jumped, wheeled about, looked at -me and began to dance up and down.</p> - -<p>"Wha-at a red one!"</p> - -<p>"And such a hairy one, too!"</p> - -<p>"He'll bite you!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, don't tease him; he's strong."</p> - -<p>"He's not a monk. He's a bell-tower."</p> - -<p>"Mikhail Ivanich, who is he?"</p> - -<p>The teacher became somewhat embarrassed, and they, the little devils, -laughed. I did not know why I struck them as funny, but I caught the -spirit from them, smiled and cried to them:</p> - -<p>"Stop it, you mice!"</p> - -<p>The sun was shining, a gay noise filled the air and everything about us -fluttered and floated with it, blinding me with its light and wrapping -me in its warmth.</p> - -<p>Mikhail greeted me and shook my hand.</p> - -<p>"We are going to the wood," he said. "Do you want to come along?"</p> - -<p>It was a pleasant sight. There was one fat youngster who snatched my -cap, put it on his head and flew about the courtyard like a butterfly.</p> - -<p>I went to the wood with this band of madcaps, and the day remains -engraven on my memory.</p> - -<p>The children poured out into the street and fled to the mountain -lightly, like feathers in the wind. I walked alongside of their -shepherd, and it seemed to me that I had never seen such charming -children before.</p> - -<p>Mikhail and I walked behind them. He gave them orders, crying out to -them; but the children refused to listen to him. They jostled, fought -and bombarded one another with pine cones, and quarreled. When they -were tired they surrounded us, crawled about our feet like beetles, -pulled at their teacher's hands, asked him now about the grass, now -about the flowers, and he answered each one in a friendly way, as if -to an equal. He rose above them like a white sail.</p> - -<p>The children were all alert, but some of them were more serious and -thoughtful than their age warranted. Silent, they kept near their -teacher.</p> - -<p>Later the children again spread themselves out and Mikhail said to me, -low:</p> - -<p>"Are they created only for toil and drunkenness? Each one is a -receptacle of a living soul. Each one could hasten the development of -the thought which would free us from the bondage of confusion, yet -they must travel along the same dark and narrow channel through which -the days of their fathers flowed turbidly. They are ordered to work -and forbidden to think. Many of them, perhaps all, pledge allegiance -to dead strength and serve it. Here lies the source of earth's misery. -There is no freedom for the growth of the human soul."</p> - -<p>He talked while several young boys walked alongside of him and listened -to his words. Their attentiveness was amusing. What could these young -sprouts of life understand by his words? I remembered my own teacher. -He beat the children on the head with a ruler and would come to school -drunk.</p> - -<p>"Life is filled with fear," Mikhail said, "and mutual hatred eats out -the soul of man. A hideous life. But only give the children time to -develop freely; do not transform them into beasts of burden, and free -and alert, they will light up life both from within and without with -the exquisite young fire of their proud souls and the great beauty of -their eternal activity."</p> - -<p>Their blond heads, their blue eyes, their red cheeks were around us -like live flowers among the dark green pines. The laughter and clear -voices of these gay birds rang out—these harbingers of new life. And -all this vital beauty would be trampled down by greed! What sense was -there in that? A delicate child is born rejoicing. He grows into a -beautiful child, and then, as a grown-up man, he swears vulgarly and -groans bitterly, beats his wife and drowns his sorrow in vodka. And as -an answer to my thought, Mikhail said:</p> - -<p>"They go on destroying the people—the one and true temple of the -living God. And the destroyers themselves sinking in the chaos of the -ruins, see their wicked work and cry out, 'Horrible!' They rush hither -and thither and whine, 'Where is God?' while they themselves have -killed Him."</p> - -<p>I remembered Juna's words about the breaking up of the Russian people, -and my thoughts followed Mikhail's words lightly and pleasantly. But -I could not understand why he spoke low and without anger, as if this -whole oppressive life was a thing of the past for him.</p> - -<p>The earth breathed warm and friendly, with the intoxicating perfumes of -the sap and the flowers. The birds pierced the air with their twitter, -the children played about and conquered the stillness of the wood, and -it became more and more clear to me that before this day I had not -understood their strength, nor had I ever seen their beauty. It was -good to see Mikhail among them, with his calm smile on his face. I -said, smiling:</p> - -<p>"I am going to leave you for a little. I have to think."</p> - -<p>He looked at me. His eyes beamed, his eyelashes fluttered, and my heart -answered him, trembling. I had seen little of friendship, but I knew -how to value it.</p> - -<p>"You are a good man," I said to him.</p> - -<p>He became embarrassed, lowered his eyes, and I also was confused. We -stood opposite each other, silent; then separated. He called out after -me:</p> - -<p>"Don't go too far. You will lose your way."</p> - -<p>"Thank you."</p> - -<p>I turned into the wood, chose a place and sat down. From the distance -came the voices of the children. The thick, green wood resounded with -their laughter and it sighed. The squirrels squeaked over my head, the -finches sang.</p> - -<p>I wanted to explain all to my soul; all which I knew and which I had -heard these days, but everything melted within me into a rainbow, and -it enfolded me and carried me on as it floated quietly along, filling -my soul. It grew infinitely large, and I lost myself in it, forgetting -myself in a light cloud of speechless thought.</p> - -<p>At night I reached home and said to Mikhail that I would like to live -with them some time, until I learned their faith. For this reason I -wished Uncle Peter to find some work for me in the factory.</p> - -<p>"Don't hurry so," he said. "You ought to rest and read some books."</p> - -<p>"Give me your books," I said, for I trusted them.</p> - -<p>"Take them."</p> - -<p>"I have never read worldly books," I said. "Give me what you think I -need; for instance, a Russian history."</p> - -<p>"It is necessary to know everything," he answered, and looked at the -books affectionately, as at the children.</p> - -<p>Then I buried myself in study, reading all day long. It was difficult -for me, and painful. The books did not argue with me. They simply did -not wish to know me. One book especially tortured me. It spoke about -the development of the world and of human life. It was written against -the Bible. Everything was stated simply, clearly and positively. I -could find no loophole in this simplicity, and it seemed to me that a -whole row of strange powers were around me and that I w as among them -like a mouse in a trap. I read it twice, read it in silence, wishing -to find some flaw in it through which I could escape to liberty. But I -found none. I asked my teacher:</p> - -<p>"How is it? Where is the man?"</p> - -<p>"It seems to me, too," he said, "that this book is not true, but I -cannot explain where it is wrong. Still, after all, as a guess at the -plan of the world, it is very pretty." I liked it when he answered: -"I do not know; I cannot say." And I stood very close to him, for -evidently in this lay his honesty. When a teacher decides to be -conscious of his ignorance, it must be that he has some knowledge.</p> - -<p>He knew much that was unknown to me and which he related to me with -marvelous simplicity. Once he told me how the sun and the stars and the -earth were created, and he talked as if he himself saw this fiery work, -done by an unknown and wise hand. I did not understand his God, but -that did not trouble me. The principal force of this world he called -some kind of matter, but I placed instead of matter God, and all went -smoothly.</p> - -<p>"God is not yet created," he said, smiling.</p> - -<p>The question of God was a standing source of argument between Mikhail -and his uncle. As soon as Mikhail said God, Uncle Peter would get angry.</p> - -<p>"He has begun it again. Don't you believe him, Matvei. He has inherited -that from his mother."</p> - -<p>"Wait, Uncle. The question of God for Matvei is the principal question."</p> - -<p>"Don't you believe it, Mishka. Send him to the devil, Matvei. There are -no Gods. It is a dark wood—religion, churches and all such things are -a dark wood, where robber bandits live. It is a hoax."</p> - -<p>But Mikhail insisted obstinately. "The God about whom I speak existed -when men unanimously created Him from the stuff of their brains, to -illumine the darkness of their existence. But when the people were -divided into slaves and masters, into little bits and pieces; when -they lost their thought and their will-power, God was lost, God was -destroyed."</p> - -<p>"Do you hear, Matvei?" Peter would cry out happily. "He is dead! Long -live his memory!"</p> - -<p>His nephew looked straight into his face, and lowering his voice, -continued:</p> - -<p>"The main crime which the masters of life have committed is the -destruction of the creative power of the people. The time will come -when the will of the people will again converge to one point, and -then, again, the unconquerable and miraculous power will arise and the -resurrection of God will take place. It is He whom you seek, Matvei."</p> - -<p>Uncle Peter waved his hands like a wood-cutter.</p> - -<p>"Don't believe him, Matvei. He is wrong."</p> - -<p>And turning to his nephew, he stormed at him:</p> - -<p>"You have caught church thoughts, Mishka, like stolen cucumbers from -a strange garden, and you confuse people with them. When you say that -the working people are called to renew life, then renew it, but don't -gather up that which the priests have brought up from their holes and -dropped!"</p> - -<p>It interested me to listen to these people, and their mutual respect -and equality surprised me. They argued with heat, but they did not -offend each other with evil language and abuse. At times the blood -would mount to Uncle Peter's head, and he would tremble; but Mikhail -only lowered his voice and seemed to bend his large opponent to the -earth. Two men stood opposite me, and both of them denied God out of -the fulness of their sincere faith!</p> - -<p>"But what is my faith?" I asked myself, and found no answer.</p> - -<p>During my stay with Mikhail the thought about the place of God among -people sank and lost its strength and dropped its former boldness and -was supplanted by a quantity of other thoughts, and instead of the -question, "Where is God?" stood other questions: "Who am I, and why? -Wherefore do I seek God?"</p> - -<p>I understood that it was senseless.</p> - -<p>In the evenings workingmen came to Mikhail and interesting -conversations took place. The teacher spoke to them about life and -explained to them the laws which were bad. He knew them remarkably -well and explained them clearly. The workingmen were mostly young men, -dried up by the heat of the factory. Their skins were eaten by soot, -their faces were dark, their eyes sorrowful. They listened with serious -eagerness, silent and frowning, and at first they seemed to me morose -and servile. But later I understood their life better and saw that they -could sing and dance and joke with the young girls.</p> - -<p>The conversations of Mikhail and his uncle were always on the same -subjects—the power of money, the abasement of the workingmen, the -greed of the masters and the absolute necessity of destroying divisions -of men into classes.</p> - -<p>But I was no workingman and no master. I was not in search of -money, and they laid too much stress on capital, and thereby lowered -themselves. At first I argued with Mikhail, pointing out that man's -first duty was to find his spiritual birthplace and that then he would -see his own place on earth, and he would find his freedom.</p> - -<p>I spoke briefly, but with heat. The workingmen listened to my speech -good-naturedly and attentively, like honest judges, and some of the -elder ones even agreed with me. But when I finished Mikhail began with -his quiet smile and annihilated my words.</p> - -<p>"You are right, Matvei, when you say that man lives in mystery and -does not know whether God, that is, his spirit, is his enemy or his -friend. But you are not right when you say that we, who are arbitrarily -bound in the chains of the terrible misery of our daily toil, can -free ourselves from the yoke of greed without destroying the actual -prison which surrounds us. First of all we must learn the strength of -our next-door enemy and learn his cunning. For this we must find each -other and discover in each other the one thing which unites each with -all. And this one thing is our unconquerable, I can say miraculous, -strength. Slaves never had a God. They raised human laws which were -forced on them without, to Godhood, nor can there ever be a God for -slaves, for He is created from the flames of the sweet consciousness of -the spiritual relationship of each toward all. Temples are not created -from gravel and debris, but from strong whole stones. Isolation is the -breaking away from the parental whole. It is a sign of the weakness -and the blindness of the soul, for in the whole is immortality and in -isolation inevitable slavery and darkness and inconsolable yearning and -death."</p> - -<p>When we spoke this way it seemed to me that his eyes saw a great light -in the distance. He drew me into his circle and every one forgot about -me, but looked at him with happiness. At first this offended me. I -thought that they misunderstood my thoughts and that no one was willing -to accept any one's thoughts but Mikhail's. Unnoticed I would go away -from them, sit down in a corner and quietly hold council with my pride.</p> - -<p>I made friends with the pupils. On holidays they surrounded Uncle -Peter and me like ravens around sheaves of corn. He would make some -toy for them while I was bombarded with questions about Kiev, Moscow -and everything I had seen. Often one of them would ask me a question -which would make my eyes bulge out in astonishment. There was a young -boy there called Fedia Sachkof, a quiet, serious child. Once when I -was going with him through the wood, speaking to him about Christ, he -suddenly said in a firm tone:</p> - -<p>"Christ did not think of remaining a small boy all his life—for -instance, a boy of my age. If He had done so, He could have lived and -still have accused the rich and aided the poor, and He would not have -been crucified. He would have been a small boy, and they would have -been sorry for Him. But the way He did it, it is as if He had never -been here."</p> - -<p>Fedia was about eleven. His little face was white and transparent, and -his eyes were critical.</p> - -<p>There was another boy, Mark Lobof, a pupil of the last class. He was a -thin, quick-tempered, sharp fellow, very impudent and a bully. He would -whistle low, and pinch, beat and push the children. Once I saw him -persecuting a small, quiet boy until the latter burst into tears.</p> - -<p>"Mark," I said to him, "suppose he fought you back."</p> - -<p>Mark looked at me, laughed and answered:</p> - -<p>"He won't fight. He is gentle and good."</p> - -<p>"Then why do you hurt him?"</p> - -<p>"Just so," he answered.</p> - -<p>He whistled and then added: "Because he is gentle."</p> - -<p>"Well, suppose he is?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"What are the gentle ones made for?"</p> - -<p>He said that in a remarkably quiet tone, and it was evident that at -twelve years old he was already sure that the gentle people were -created for insults.</p> - -<p>Each child was wise in his own way, and the more I was with them the -more I thought about their fate. What did they do to deserve the -wretched, offensive life which awaited them?</p> - -<p>I reminded myself of Christa and my son, and remembering them, angry -thoughts arose in my soul. Do you not forbid the women free birth of -children because you fear that they might give birth to some one -dangerous and inimical to you? Do you not violate woman's will because -her free son is terrible to you, since he is not tied to you by any -bonds? You have time and the right to bind your children whom you have -brought up and equipped for the affairs of life; but you fear that -nobody's child whom you have denied your supervision may grow up into -your implacable enemy.</p> - -<p>There was such a nobody's child in the factory. His name was Stepa. He -was black as a beetle, pockmarked, and without eyebrows. His eyes were -little and sharp, and he was quick at everything, and very gay.</p> - -<p>Our acquaintance began with his coming up to me one holiday and saying:</p> - -<p>"Monk, I heard you are illegitimate. Well, so am I." And he walked -alongside of me.</p> - -<p>He was thirteen, had already finished school and was working in the -factory. He walked along, blinked his eyes, and asked:</p> - -<p>"Is the earth large?"</p> - -<p>I explained to him as best I could. "Why do you want to know?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"I need to know. Why should I stick in one place? I am not a tree. As -soon as I learn the locksmithing trade, I am going far into Russia, to -Moscow, and farther still. I am going everywhere."</p> - -<p>He spoke as if he were threatening some one. "I am coming!"</p> - -<p>I watched him closely after this meeting. He had a serious streak in -him. He was always where Mikhail's comrades talked, and he listened -and squinted his eyes as if taking aim where to send himself. He had a -special way of playing tricks. He teased only those who stood near to -the boss.</p> - -<p>Once at dinner, he said: "It is dull here, monk."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know, but they are a rotten lot. Work and trouble, nothing -more. As soon as I learn my trade I am going to get out of here, quick."</p> - -<p>Whenever he spoke of his future wanderings his eyes became large and he -glanced boldly and had the look of a conqueror, who staked his all on -his own strength.</p> - -<p>I liked this creature, and I felt something mature in his speech. "He -won't get lost," I thought to myself as I looked at him.</p> - -<p>My soul ached for my own son. How was he and what was going to happen -to him on this earth?</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a></h4> - - -<p>There was a quiet growth of new feelings within me. I felt that each -man sent out to me a sharp, thin ray which touched me unseen and -imperceptibly reached my heart. And I accepted these hidden rays ever -more willingly.</p> - -<p>At times the workingmen assembled in Mikhail's rooms, and then I felt -that a burning cloud formed from their thoughts, which surrounded me -and carried me strangely upward with itself.</p> - -<p>Suddenly every one began to understand me more and more. I stood in -their circle, and they were my body and I was their soul and their -will, and my speech was their voice. And at times it was I that was a -part of the body, and I heard the cry of my own soul from other mouths, -and it sounded good when I heard it. But when time passed and there was -silence I again remained alone and for myself.</p> - -<p>I remembered my former communion with God in my prayers. Then I had -been glad when I could wipe myself out from my memory and cease to -exist. In my relationship with people I did not lose myself; instead I -grew larger, taller, and the strength of my soul increased many-fold. -In this, too, lay self-forgetfulness, but it did not destroy me. It -quenched my bitter thoughts and the anguish of isolation.</p> - -<p>I realized this mistily and vaguely. I felt that a new seed was growing -in my soul, but I could not understand it. I only knew that it pulled -me determinedly toward people.</p> - -<p>In those days I worked in the factory for forty kopecks a day, carrying -on my shoulders heavy trays of iron, slag and brick. I hated this -hellish place, with its dirt and its noise and its hubbub, and its heat -which tortured the body.</p> - -<p>The factory had fastened itself onto the earth and pressed itself into -her and sucked her insatiably night and day. It was out of breath from -greed and groaned and spit out of its red-hot jaws fiery blood drawn -from the earth. It cooled off, grew black, then again began to melt -iron and to boil and thunder, flattening out the red iron and squirting -up sparks and trembling in its whole frame, as it pulled out long -strips like nerves, from the body of the earth.</p> - -<p>The wild labor seemed to me something terrible, something bordering on -the insane. This groaning monster, devastating the lap of the earth, -was digging an abyss under itself, and knowing that some day it would -fall into it, screeched eagerly, with a thousand voices: "Hurry! Hurry! -Hurry!"</p> - -<p>In fire and noise, under a rain of burning sparks, blackened men -worked. It was no place for them. About them everything threatened to -burn them by fiery death or to crush them by heavy iron; everything -deafened and blinded. The unbearable heat dried up the blood, but they -did their work quietly, walking about with a masterly confidence, like -devils in hell, fearing nothing and knowing nothing.</p> - -<p>They lifted small levers with strong hands, and all around and above -them hands and jaws of enormous machines moved quietly and terribly, -crumbling the iron. It was hard to know whose mind and whose will -reigned here. At times it was man who controlled and governed this -factory according to his wishes. But other times it seemed that all -the people and the whole factory were subject to the devil and that -he laughed aloud, triumphantly and horribly as he saw the mad and -difficult rush created by greed.</p> - -<p>The workers said to one another: "It is time to go to work." Were the -men masters of their work, or did it drive and crush them? I did not -know. Work seemed difficult and masterful, but the human mind was sharp -and quick. Sometimes there would ring out amid this devilish noise of -whirring machines a victorious and care-free song. I would smile in my -heart, remembering the story of Ivan the Fool, who rode on a whale up -to heaven to catch the wonder-bird, Phoenix.</p> - -<p>The people in the factory, though they were not friendly to me, were -all bold and proud. They were abusive, foul-mouthed and often drunk; -yet they were free and fearless people. They were different from the -pilgrims and the tillers of the soil, who offended me with their -servile, confused souls, their hopeless complainings and their petty -cheatings in their affairs with God and themselves. These people were -bold in thought, and although they were hurt by the slavery of their -labor, and grew angry with one another and even fought, yet if the -bosses ever acted unfairly, thereby rousing their sense of justice, -they would stand together against them as one man.</p> - -<p>And those workingmen who followed Mikhail were always among the first, -spoke louder than the rest and seemed to fear nothing. Formerly, when -I did not think about the people, I did not notice men; but now as -I looked upon them I wished to detect differences, so that each one -might stand out separately before me. I succeeded in this and yet not -entirely. Their speech was different and each one had his own face, -but their faith-was the same and their plans were one. Without haste, -friendly and sincerely, they were building something new. Each one of -them, among his fellows, was like a pleasant light; like a meadow in -a thick wood for the wanderer who had lost his way. Each one drew to -himself the workingmen who were wider awake than the rest, and all -these followers of Mikhail were held together by one plan, and they -created a spiritual circle in the factory, a fire of brightly burning -thoughts.</p> - -<p>At first the workingmen were not friendly to me. They shouted and made -fun of me.</p> - -<p>"Oh, you red-haired fly! You cloister-bug! You foul one! Parasite!"</p> - -<p>At times they struck me, but this I could not stand, and in such -cases I did not spare my fists. Though people admire strength, still -one cannot gain esteem and attention through his fists, and I would -have had to bear many beatings were it not that at one of my quarrels -a friend of Mikhail's, one Gavriel Kostin, interfered. He was a young -metal pourer, very handsome and respected by the whole factory. Six men -had come up to me and their looks boded ill for my back. But he stood -next to me and said:</p> - -<p>"Why do you provoke a man, comrades? Is he not as much a worker as the -rest of us? You do wrong, and against yourselves. Our strength lies in -close friendship."</p> - -<p>He said these few words, but he said them so well and so simply, as if -he were talking to children. The friends of Mikhail always made use of -every incident to spread their ideas.</p> - -<p>Kostin embarrassed my opponents and the words touched my heart also. I -began to talk.</p> - -<p>"I did not become a monk," I said, "to have much to eat, but because my -soul was starved. I have lived and I have seen that everywhere labor is -endless and hunger common; that everywhere there is swindle and fraud, -bitterness and tears, brutality and every kind of darkness of the soul. -By whom was this arranged? Where is our righteous and wise God? Does He -see the infinite and eternal martyrdom of the people?"</p> - -<p>A crowd collected about me and listened earnestly to my words. I -finished and there was silence.</p> - -<p>Finally, the head model-maker, Kriokof, said to Kostin:</p> - -<p>"That monk there sees things deeper than you and your comrades. He has -taken hold of the root of the matter."</p> - -<p>It pleased me to hear these words. Kriokof slapped me on my shoulder -and said:</p> - -<p>"You have spoken well, brother, but all the same cut your hair by a -yard. Such a mane catches the dirt and looks funny."</p> - -<p>And some one called out:</p> - -<p>"And is in the way in a fight."</p> - -<p>They were joking. Evidently their wrath had passed. Where there is -laughter, there is man; the animal is gone.</p> - -<p>Kostin took me aside. "Be careful with such words, Matvei," he said. -"You can get into prison for them."</p> - -<p>I was astonished. "What!"</p> - -<p>"In prison," he laughed.</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"For criticizing."</p> - -<p>"Are you joking?"</p> - -<p>"Ask Mikhail," he said. "I have to go to work now."</p> - -<p>He went away.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a></h4> - - -<p>I was very much astonished at his words. I could hardly believe them, -but in the evening Mikhail confirmed them. All evening he told me about -the cruel persecutions. It seemed that for such speeches as I had made -thousands of people suffered death, were sent to Siberia and to the -mines; yet, though the slaughter of Herod was in no way diminishing, -the faithful were ever increasing in numbers.</p> - -<p>Something grew and became clear in my soul, and the speeches of Mikhail -and his comrades took on another meaning, for, first of all, if a man -was ready to give up his freedom and even his life for his faith, -it meant that he was a sincere believer, and he resembled the early -martyrs who followed the laws of Christ.</p> - -<p>Mikhail's words grew connected and blossomed out and came close to my -soul. I do not mean to say that I understood his words at once and -fathomed their depths, but for the first time that evening I felt their -close relationship to my heart, and the whole earth seemed to me a -Bethlehem saturated with the blood of children. I grew to understand -the keen desire of the Virgin Mother when, looking upon hell, she asked -of the Archangel Mikhail: "Oh, Archangel, let me suffer in this fire. -Let me take part in this great agony." Only that here I did not see -sinners, but righteous ones, wishing to destroy the hell upon earth, -for the sake of which they were serenely prepared to undergo all -suffering.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps there are no longer holy anchorites," I said to Mikhail, -"because man is not going away from the world, but toward the world."</p> - -<p>"The true faith," he answered, "comes out in a true movement."</p> - -<p>"Take me into this movement," I begged of him.</p> - -<p>Everything burned within me.</p> - -<p>"No," he answered. "Wait a while and consider it. It is still too soon -for you. If you, with your character, should fall into the enemy's -noose at present, you would be entangled in it uselessly and for a long -time. On the other hand, you ought to go away after what you have said. -There is much that is still not clear to you, and you are not free -enough for our work. Its great beauty has captivated and allured you, -but though it is displayed before you in its whole strength you stand -before it as if you were standing in a square room from which you can -see the temple being built, in all its immensity and beauty. But it is -being built quietly and evenly day by day, and if you are not familiar -with the whole plan, the sublime temple will disappear and vanish from -your vision, and the vision, which was not deep in your soul, will -vanish and the labor of building will seem beyond your strength."</p> - -<p>"Why do you quench my ardor?" I asked him with pain. "I have found a -place for myself and was happy when I saw that I could be useful."</p> - -<p>He answered me calmly and sadly:</p> - -<p>"I do not consider that you are capable of living by a plan which is -not clear to you, and I see that the consciousness of your relation to -the spirit of the working class has not yet arisen in your soul. You -have been sharpened by the friction of life, and you stand in advance -of the thought of the people. You do not look upon yourself as one of -them, but it seems to me that you consider yourself a hero, ready to -give alms to the weak from the overflow of your strength; that you -consider yourself something special, living for yourself, and that in -yourself is the beginning and end, and that you are not a link in the -exquisite and immense unending chain."</p> - -<p>I began to understand why he sent me back to earth and unconsciously -felt that his words were right.</p> - -<p>"You should begin wandering again," he said, "to look upon the life of -the people with new eyes. Do not take books along with you. Reading -will give you nothing. You do not yet believe that it is not human -intelligence which is found in books, but the infinite diversity of the -striving of the soul of the people toward freedom. Books do not seek to -master you, but give you the weapon for emancipation; you do not yet -understand how to hold this weapon in your hand."</p> - -<p>He spoke truly. Books were strangers to me at this time. I was used -to church writings, but I could not grasp worldly thought except with -great difficulty. The spoken word gave me much more than the written. -The thoughts which I gathered from books lay on the surface of my soul -and were quickly effaced and melted away by my fire. They did not -answer my principal question: What was the law which governed God, and -why, if man was made in His image, did He degrade him against His will? -And, moreover, whose was this will?</p> - -<p>Side by side with this question, not antagonizing it, lived another. -Was God brought down from heaven on this earth, or was He raised from -earth up to heaven by the strength of the people? And here arose the -burning thought that the creation of God was the eternal work of the -whole people.</p> - -<p>My heart was cut in two. I wanted to remain with these people, yet -something pulled me to go away and prove my new thought and to search -for this unknown something which robbed me of my liberty and confused -my spirit.</p> - -<p>Uncle Peter urged me also: "You ought to go away for some time, Matvei. -There has been some dangerous talk about your speech."</p> - -<p>And soon things decided themselves without my control. One night -a messenger came on horseback from a neighboring factory with the -announcement that gendarmes were making house searches in their place -and that undoubtedly they would soon be here.</p> - -<p>"Ah, it is too soon," said Mikhail with anger.</p> - -<p>There was a hurrying and scurrying to and fro and Uncle Peter cried to -me:</p> - -<p>"Go, Matvei, go! You have nothing to do here. You did not make the soup -and you needn't eat it."</p> - -<p>Mikhail insisted, looking straight into my face.</p> - -<p>"You had better go away from here. Your presence will help very little -and may do some harm."</p> - -<p>I understood that they wanted to get rid of me, and it hurt me. But -at this time I felt that I was afraid of the gendarmes. I did not see -them, yet I feared them! I knew that it was not right to leave people -in their need, but I succumbed to their will. They sent me away.</p> - -<p>I went up the mountain to the wood through underbrush, between tree -stumps. I stumbled as if I was held by my heels. Behind me a young boy -hurried along, Ivan Vikof, with a great pack on his back. He was sent -to hide books in the wood.</p> - -<p>We ran forward to the edge of the wood. He found a hiding place and -buried his burden. He was calm, but not I.</p> - -<p>"Will they come here?" I asked him.</p> - -<p>"Who knows?" he answered. "Perhaps they will come here. You must hurry."</p> - -<p>He was an awkward boy, and he looked as if he were hacked out from an -oak-tree with an ax. His head was large, one shoulder was higher than -the other, his long arms were out of proportion, and his voice was sad.</p> - -<p>"Are you afraid?" I asked him.</p> - -<p>"Of what?"</p> - -<p>"That they will come and take you."</p> - -<p>"If they only don't find what I have hidden, I don't care what they do."</p> - -<p>He arranged the books with care in the pit, covered them over, smoothed -the earth down and threw brush upon it. He sat down on the ground, and -seeing that I was getting ready to go away, he said:</p> - -<p>"Some one will come with a note for you. Wait." "What kind of a note?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>I looked out from the trees into the valley. The factory breathed -heavily, like a strong man who is being choked. It seemed to me that -men were being pursued in the streets and that in the darkness they ran -after one another; they fought, they snarled in anger, ready to break -each other's bones. And Ivan, without haste, was getting ready to go -down.</p> - -<p>"Where are you going?"</p> - -<p>"Home."</p> - -<p>"They will take you."</p> - -<p>"I am not long in the movement, and they do not know me. And if they -take me, there is no harm done. People come out wiser from prison."</p> - -<p>Here some one loudly and clearly asked me: "How is it, Matvei? You are -not afraid of God, and yet you fear the gendarmes."</p> - -<p>I looked at Ivan. He was standing and gazing down thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>"What did you say?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"You read many books in prison."</p> - -<p>"Is that all?"</p> - -<p>"Isn't that enough?"</p> - -<p>There were several lies that were rotting within me, and shameful -questions shot up with piercing sparks. The night was cold, but I -burned.</p> - -<p>"I am going with you."</p> - -<p>"You must not," Ivan said sternly. "They will certainly arrest you. -This whole trouble began on account of your speech."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"A priest in Verkhotour gave it away."</p> - -<p>I sat down on the ground and said to myself:</p> - -<p>"Then I have to go."</p> - -<p>But fear took hold of me.</p> - -<p>"Some one is running," Ivan whispered low.</p> - -<p>I looked down from the mountain. Thick shadows were crawling over it. -The sky was clouded, the moon in its last quarter now showed itself, -now hid itself in the clouds. The whole earth about me moved, and from -this noiseless movement something oppressive and fearful fell on me. I -watched the torrents of shadows which flowed over the earth and which -covered up the undergrowth and my soul with black veils.</p> - -<p>A head moved among the brush, jumping like a ball among the branches. -Ivan whistled low and said:</p> - -<p>"It is Kostia!"</p> - -<p>I knew Kostia. He was a boy of about fifteen, blue-eyed, blond and -weak. He had finished school two years ago. Mikhail was preparing him -to be his assistant.</p> - -<p>I understood that I was thinking about these little details on purpose, -for I wanted to put my thoughts aside and stifle my shame and my fear.</p> - -<p>Kostia arrived panting, his voice broken.</p> - -<p>"They have arrived. They have asked for you, Monk. Here, Uncle Peter -wrote a note and told me to take you to the Lobanofsky monastery. Let -us go."</p> - -<p>I rose and said to Ivan: "Good-by, brother. Greet them all for me and -ask them to forgive me."</p> - -<p>But Kostia pushed me and commanded me severely:</p> - -<p>"Go along! Whom are you greeting? They are all taken like hens for the -market."</p> - -<p>We went along. Kostia went ahead, telling me in a low voice all that he -saw below, and I followed him. But I was pulled from all sides, by my -hands and the skirts of my coat, as if some one were asking me:</p> - -<p>"Where are you going? You have entrapped people and you yourself are -escaping."</p> - -<p>I spoke aloud, to myself: "So on account of me people were lost!"</p> - -<p>The boy answered: "Not on account of you, but on account of truth. Are -you truth? What a queer fellow!"</p> - -<p>His words were funny and he himself was small, but still they struck -home. I wanted to set myself right before him, and I laid out my -thoughts as a beggar lays out the crumbs from his bag.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I said, "it is evident that a great untruth lives within me."</p> - -<p>He muttered, answering each one of my words like a conscience:</p> - -<p>"Why great? You must always have something greater in you than any one -else."</p> - -<p>"Those are not his words," I thought. "He has copied them from some -one."</p> - -<p>"Kostin was right when he called you a bell tower. But you are not the -kind that rings only for mass, but one which rings by itself, because -it was built crooked and the bells are badly hung."</p> - -<p>He remained silent, and then he added:</p> - -<p>"I don't like you, Monk. You are so strange."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. Are you really a Russian? I don't think you are good."</p> - -<p>At any other time I would have become angry, but now I was silent. -I became suddenly weak, tired unto death. Night and the wood were -around us. Between the trees the gray darkness fell thickly and became -dense. It w as difficult to tell which was night and which was tree. -The moonbeams glistened above, broke themselves upon the body of the -darkness and vanished. It was quiet. All these people, beginning with -Juna, bore no fear. Some were filled with anger, others were always -gay, and most of them were quiet, modest people, who seemed to be -ashamed to show their goodness.</p> - -<p>Kostia walked along the path, and his blond head shone like a light -before me. I recalled the youth of Bartholomew, the God-child Alexei -and others. No, that was not the right!</p> - -<p>My thoughts were like water-hens in a puddle, jumping from stump to -stump.</p> - -<p>"Have you read the 4 Lives of the Saints'?" I asked the boy.</p> - -<p>"I read them when I was little. My mother made me. Why?"</p> - -<p>"Did you like those chosen ones of God?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. Ponteleimon I liked; and George also. He fought with the -dragon. But I don't know what good it did the people to have dozens of -them made holy."</p> - -<p>Kostia grew in my eyes.</p> - -<p>"If a Czar's daughter or a rich man's daughter believed in Christ and -underwent martyrdom for her belief, neither the Czar nor the kingdom -were ever better to the people for it? It is not spoken of in the -legends that the tyrant Czars became good."</p> - -<p>Then, after a silence, he said:</p> - -<p>"Nor do I know of what good Christ's martyrdom was. He wanted to -conquer suffering, and what came of it?"</p> - -<p>He grew thoughtful and then added:</p> - -<p>"Nothing came of it."</p> - -<p>I wanted to embrace him. Pity arose in my heart for Kostia, for Christ, -for all the people who remained in the village, for the whole human -world. And what of me? Where was my place? Where was I going?</p> - -<p>The darkness of the short night was lifting, and from above a quiet -light came through the branches of the pine trees.</p> - -<p>"You are not tired, Kostia?"</p> - -<p>"I?" the small boy answered proudly. "No. I like to walk in the night. -It seems to me then that I walk through wonderland. I love fairy tales."</p> - -<p>At dawn we lay down to sleep. Kostia fell asleep quickly, as if he had -dived into a river, but I circled around my thoughts like a Tartar -beggar around a Christian church in winter. It is stormy and cold in -the street, but it is forbidden by Mohammed to enter the temple.</p> - -<p>I decided upon something towards morning, and when the boy awoke, I -said to him:</p> - -<p>"Forgive me that I made you walk with me for nothing. I am not going to -the monastery. I don't want to hide."</p> - -<p>He looked at me seriously and said:</p> - -<p>"You have already hidden." Then, without looking at me, he began to -wave a twig.</p> - -<p>"Well, good-by, dear."</p> - -<p>He bowed his head: "Good-by," he answered.</p> - -<p>I went away, then looked back. He stood there among the trees following -me with his eyes.</p> - -<p>"Eh," he cried, "good-by!"</p> - -<p>It pleased me that he said it with more tenderness this time.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</a></h4> - - -<p>Like one sick, I wandered for many days, full of heavy heartache. A -fire raged in my soul, that quiet piece of land of mine, and lit it up -like a meadow in the wood, and my thoughts now crawled ahead of me, -together with my shadow; now dragged behind, like biting smoke. Was I -ashamed or not? I do not remember and I cannot say. A black thought was -born in my mind and fluttered about me like a bat. "They are Godless -ones, not God-creators."</p> - -<p>But heavier and broader than all my thoughts, was a hollow stillness -in me, lazy and deep; a certain peace like a turbid pool, in the -depths of whose heart dumb thoughts swam about with difficulty, like -frightened fish who struggle but cannot rise to the light from out of -the oppressive depths.</p> - -<p>Little reached me from the outside, and I remember my meetings with men -as through a dream. Somewhere near Omsk, at a village market, I woke -up. A blind man sat on the road in the dust and sang a song. His guide -knelt near him and accompanied him on his accordion. The old man looked -up at heaven with his empty eyes and sang the words with a faraway, -rusty voice, describing the past, under the reign of Ivan Vasilef, and -the accordion gave out its hollow accompaniment, "U-u-u."</p> - -<p>I sat down on the ground next to the blind man. He took hold of my -hand, held it, let it go again, but did not stop singing: "Once there -lived Ermak, a son of Timotheof." "A-a-a," the accordion repeated.</p> - -<p>And around the singers a crowd collected quietly, listening -thoughtfully and seriously to the story of the past, with heads bowed -to the ground. A dry warmth enfolded me and I saw curiosity light up -the eyes of the men, and some one asked:</p> - -<p>"Won't he sing?"</p> - -<p>"He will. Wait."</p> - -<p>I had often heard these robber ballads, but I never knew whose were -the words nor whose the soul mirrored there. But now all at once I -understood. The ancient people spoke to me with a thousand tongues. "I -pardon your great sins against me, man, for your small service."</p> - -<p>People still looked at me with, curiosity, and my spirit was aroused. -The old man finished his song, and I arose and said:</p> - -<p>"Orthodox Christians, here you have heard about a robber who plundered -and robbed the people, but, afterwards, his conscience troubling him, -he went away to save his soul, wishing to serve the people with his -great strength. And he served them. But to-day you are living among -robbers who exploit you mercilessly, and in what way do they serve the -people? What good do you see in them?"</p> - -<p>The crowd thickened around me, almost embracing me, and their -attention made my words grow strong and gave them tone and beauty, and -I lost myself in my words. I only felt a close alliance to the earth -and to the people. They lifted me up towards themselves, drawing me on -by their silence: "Speak; speak the whole truth as you see it!"</p> - -<p>Of course a policeman arrived and cried: "Move on!" asking what was the -matter and demanding my passport.</p> - -<p>The people melted quietly away, like a cloud in the sun, and the -policeman questioned and made inquiries as to what I said. Some -answered: "About God; about many things; mainly about God."</p> - -<p>I saw a workingman standing apart. He leaned up against his wagon and -gazed steadily at me, smiling tenderly. The policeman had taken hold -of my collar, and I wanted to shake him off, but I saw that the people -looked sideways at me, with half-closed eyes, as if they were asking: -"Now, what are you going to say?"</p> - -<p>I paled at their lack of faith. Conquering myself in time, I shook off -the hand of the policeman and said to him:</p> - -<p>"Do you want to know what I said?"</p> - -<p>And again I began to speak about injustice in life. Again the market -people gathered around me in great crowds, and the policeman was lost -in them and effaced.</p> - -<p>I recalled Kostia and the factory children, and I felt proud and -happy. I became strong and as in a dream. The policeman whispered, many -faces passed before me, many eyes burned; a warm cloud of people were -around me, pushed me along, and I lay lightly among them. Some one took -me by the shoulder and whispered in my ear: "Enough. Go."</p> - -<p>They pushed and pushed me, and soon I found myself in a kind of court, -and a black-bearded man was on one side of me and on the other a young -boy with no cap on his head. The dark man said:</p> - -<p>"Climb over the wall."</p> - -<p>I climbed it, then went over another. It seemed to me queer, yet -pleasant.</p> - -<p>"Eh," I thought, "is that who you are?"</p> - -<p>The black-bearded man hurried me along. "Lively, comrade, lively!"</p> - -<p>I asked him on the way: "Who are you?"</p> - -<p>"One of yours," he answered.</p> - -<p>The boy without the cap followed us silently. We crossed gardens, came -to a ravine at the bottom of which a stream ran along, and found a -footpath in the brush. The dark man led me by the hand, looked into my -eyes and said, smiling:</p> - -<p>"Well, good luck to you. Here, Fediok will conduct you to a good road. -Go."</p> - -<p>"You had better hurry. They might get you." The dark man bent down, -began crawling up the mountain, and Fediok and I went along by the -stream.</p> - -<p>"Who is that man?" I asked him.</p> - -<p>"A blacksmith. An exile—for political reasons."</p> - -<p>"I know such people," I answered.</p> - -<p>I felt happy, but he was silent. I looked at the young man. His face -was round, his nose short. His head seemed cut out from stone, and -his gray eyes bulged far apart. He spoke low, walked noiselessly and -held his head forward, as if he was listening or was pulled from -above by some great force. He kept his hands behind his back, as my -father-in-law used to.</p> - -<p>"Are you a native here?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I am a farm hand at the priest's."</p> - -<p>"Where is you cap?"</p> - -<p>He felt his head, looked at me and asked:</p> - -<p>"Why do you care about the cap?"</p> - -<p>"Just so. It is night, and you will be cold."</p> - -<p>He remained silent. Then he muttered unwillingly:</p> - -<p>"What does it matter about the cap as long as one's head is saved?"</p> - -<p>The ravine became deeper, the stream sounded clearer, and night rose -from the underbrush.</p> - -<p>My soul was unclear, yet I felt happy, and I wished to speak with the -young man.</p> - -<p>"Have you only one exile here?" I asked.</p> - -<p>Here the young man opened himself as one opens an overcoat. Slowly and -low, he said:</p> - -<p>"Four. There is a nobleman from Moscow and three from the Don. Two of -them are quiet fellows. They even drink vodka. But the nobleman and -that Ratkof who was here before, speak, though in secret, with whomever -they can. They have not yet begun to speak openly before the people. -There are many of them here, many around us. I, from Birsky—Fedor -Mitkof, am here five years. During this time there were eleven men -here. In Olekhine there are eight; in Shishkof there are three."</p> - -<p>He counted for a long time, and he reached about sixty. When he -finished he became thoughtful; then began to speak, gesticulating with -his finger.</p> - -<p>"There are even some peasants among them. They all say the same thing; -this life is unbearable; it stifles them. I lived in peace until I -heard these words, and now I see I am not yet full grown and I must bow -my head. Then, in truth, it must be that this life is stifling."</p> - -<p>The young fellow spoke with difficulty, tearing each word from under -his feet. He walked ahead of me and did not look at me. He was -broad-shouldered and strong.</p> - -<p>"Can you read and write?" I asked him.</p> - -<p>"I once knew how, but have forgotten. Now I am studying again. It -doesn't matter, I know how. When one has to, one can do everything. And -I have to. If it were the noblemen who spoke about the difficulty of -this life, I would not take any notice of it, for their beliefs were -always different from ours. But when it is your own brothers, the poor -working class, then it must be true. And moreover, some of the common -people go even farther than the noblemen. That means that something -social and human is beginning. That is what they always say—social, -human. I am human. Then it means my way lies with them, that is what I -think."</p> - -<p>I listened to him and said to myself: "Learn, Matvei."</p> - -<p>"What is the use of thinking about such a thing?" I said to him. "It is -God's affair."</p> - -<p>He stopped, suddenly standing stiff upon the ground, so that I almost -fell upon Iris back. Then he turned his face towards me and asked -sternly:</p> - -<p>"Is it really God's affair? Here is what I think about it. This is -why they say, 4 Honor your father.' And they say the authorities are -also from God. And this they confirm by miracles. But then if the old -laws are changed, new miracles should have come. But where are they? -There were no signs when new laws came, none whatever. Everything is -as it was. In Nijni they discovered relics which performed miracles. -But then a rumor arose that they were not true relics, for Seraphim's -beard was gray and this one was red. The question is not the beard, -but the miracle. Were there any miracles? There were, but they don't -want to admit it. They call all signs false, or they say faith creates -miracles. There are times when I want to beat them to stop their -confounding my soul."</p> - -<p>Again he stopped, and around him the night rose from the earth. The -path fell more steeply, the stream flowed on more hastily, and the -brush rustled, moving quietly.</p> - -<p>"Go on, brother," I said to him, low.</p> - -<p>He went forward. He did not stumble in the darkness but I almost fell -on his back every step I took. He seemed to roll down like a stone, and -his strange voice resounded in the stillness.</p> - -<p>"If I believed them, it would be an end of everything. I am not -especially kind-hearted. I had a brother in the military, and he hanged -himself. My sister worked as a servant in a farmer's house near Birsky, -and she gave birth to a child who is lame. It is four years old now and -cannot walk. It means that a girl's life was ruined on account of a -man's caprice. Where should she go now? My father is a drunkard and my -elder brother has taken all the land. I have nothing."</p> - -<p>We turned into the underbrush in the gray darkness. Now the stream went -away from us into the depth, now again it flowed at our feet. Over our -heads the night birds flew noiselessly, and above them were the stars.</p> - -<p>I wanted to walk fast, but the man in front of me did not hurry and -muttered to himself unceasingly, as if he were counting his words, and -taking their weight.</p> - -<p>"That dark one, Ratkof, is a good man. He lives according to the new -law and takes the part of the oppressed. A policeman once beat me with -a club and he immediately felled the policeman to the ground. He had to -sit fourteen days for it. 'How can you fight the authorities?' I asked -him when he came out. He immediately explained his law to me. I went -to the priest, and the priest said, 'Ah, are these the thoughts you -are plaiting?' Ratkof was sent to the prison in the city. He sat three -months, and I nineteen days. 'What did he say?' they asked me there. -'Nothing.' 'What did he teach?' 'He taught nothing.' I am no fool -myself. Ratkof came out. 'Forgive me,' I said to him, 'I was a fool.' -But he laughed. 'It was nonsense,' he said."</p> - -<p>My guide remained silent, and then, in a new voice, and lower, he -continued:</p> - -<p>"Everything is nonsense to him. He spits blood, that is nonsense; he -starves, that too is nonsense."</p> - -<p>Suddenly he began to swear grossly, turned about and faced me, and -hissed through his teeth:</p> - -<p>"I can understand everything. My brother died—that happens in the -military. My sister's case is not a rare one. But why do they torture -that man to death? That I cannot understand. I go like a dog wherever -he sends me. He calls me Earth. 'Eh, you Earth,' he says and laughs. -But the fact that they are always torturing him, that is like a knife -in my heart!"</p> - -<p>And again he began to swear like a drunken monk.</p> - -<p>The ravine opened, broadened its walls down into the field, leveled -them and vanished into the darkness.</p> - -<p>"Well," said my guide, "good-by."</p> - -<p>He pointed out to me the road to Omsk, turned back and disappeared. He -was still without his cap.</p> - -<p>When his heavy steps died in the stillness I sat down, not desiring to -go farther. The night lay heavily on the earth and slept, fresh, and -thick, like oil. There were no stars in the heavens, no moon, no light -about. But there was warmth and light within me.</p> - -<p>The heavy words of my guide burned within my memory. He was like a bell -that had lain a long time on the earth, and had been covered by it and -eaten out by rust, and though his tone was dull yet there was a new -sound in it.</p> - -<p>The village people stood before my eyes as they listened to my speech -seriously and wonderingly. Their troubled faces passed before me as -they dragged me away from the police.</p> - -<p>"Is that the way it is?" I thought, marveling, and I could scarcely -believe what had happened to me.</p> - -<p>Again I thought. "This young man seeks signs and omens. He himself is -a miracle. It is a miracle to preserve love for man in this horrible -life. And the crowd who heard me, that, too, was a miracle, that it -should not be deaf or blind, though many for a long time have tried to -deafen and blind it. And a still greater miracle were Mikhail and his -comrades."</p> - -<p>My thoughts flowed calmly and easily. I was unaccustomed to it and did -not expect it. I examined myself carefully, searched my heart quietly, -wishing to find there anxiety and troubled doubt.</p> - -<p>I smiled in the silent darkness and feared to move, lest I drive away -the unwonted joy which filled my heart to the very brim. I believed and -yet did not believe this marvelous fulness of my soul, this unexpected -Godsend which I found in me.</p> - -<p>It was as if a white bird, who was born long before, had slept in -the shadow of my soul, and I had not known it or felt it. I stroked -it accidentally and it awoke and began to sing quietly within me and -flutter its light wings in my heart, and its hot song melted the ice of -doubt and turned it into grateful tears.</p> - -<p>I wanted to say something, to arise, to sing, to meet human beings and -to embrace them. I saw before me the shining face of Juna, the kind -eyes of Mikhail, the stern wit of Ivostia. All the familiar, dear and -new people became alive to me, united in my breast and broadened it -with happiness till it ached.</p> - -<p>So it had happened before while saying Mass at Easter, that I loved -people and myself. I sat down, and thought tremblingly:</p> - -<p>"O Lord, is it not Thou, this beauty of beauties, this joy and this -happiness?"</p> - -<p>Darkness reigned about me, and in it were the shining faces of the -Believers sitting quietly. But my heart sang unceasingly.</p> - -<p>I stroked the earth with my hand, I patted it with my palm, as if it -were a horse, which understood my caress.</p> - -<p>I could not sit still. I arose and walked on through the night. I -remembered Kostia's words. I saw before me the look of childish -sternness in his eyes, and I Went on, drunk with joy, walking over the -earth towards the very end of autumn, gathering up into my soul its -precious new gifts.</p> - -<p>At the station in Omsk I saw emigrants, Little Russians. A great part -of the earth was covered with their bodies, those friends of labor. I -walked among them, heard their soft speech and asked them:</p> - -<p>"Are you not afraid to lose yourselves, so far away?"</p> - -<p>A man gray and bent by work, answered me:</p> - -<p>"As long as we have a piece of land under our feet, we do not care how -far it is. It is suffocating on earth when a man has to live by his own -labor."</p> - -<p>Formerly the words of pain and sorrow fell like ashes on my heart, but -now they were keen sparks which lit it up, for every sorrow was my -sorrow, and I too suffered from the want of liberty, as did the people.</p> - -<p>There is no time nor place for general spiritual growth, and this -is bitter and dangerous to the one who outstrips the people, for he -remains alone in advance of them, and the people do not see him and -cannot strengthen him with their strength; and alone and uselessly he -burns himself up in the fire of his desires.</p> - -<p>I spoke in Little Russian, for I knew this tender language.</p> - -<p>"For ages the people have wandered over the earth, hither and thither, -seeking a place where they may in freedom build up a righteous life -with their own strength, and for ages you have wandered over the -earth, its lawful masters, and why? Who is it that gives no room to -the people, the real Czar of the earth? Who has dethroned them? Who -has torn the crown from their heads and driven them from country to -country, these creators of all labor, these exquisite gardeners who -planted all the beauty on the earth?"</p> - -<p>The eyes of the people burned. The human soul which was just awakened -in them glowed, and my own glance also became wide and keen. I saw the -question on each face and immediately answered it; I saw doubt and I -fought with it. I drew strength from the hearts which were opened about -me, and I united this strength into one heart.</p> - -<p>When you speak to people some word which touches them as a whole, -which lies buried secretly and deep in each human soul, then their eyes -shine with glowing strength and fill you and carry you above them. But -do not think that it is your strength which carries you. You are winged -with the crossing of all strength in your heart. It surrounds you from -without; you are strong by its strength just as long as the people fill -you up with it; but should they go away, should their spirit vanish, -you again fall back to the level of all.</p> - -<p>So I began my teaching modestly, calling the people to a new service in -the name of a new life, though I did not know how to name my new God. -In Zlatout on a holiday I spoke in the square, and again the police -interfered, and again the people hid me.</p> - -<p>I met many splendid men and women. One whose name was Yashka Vladikine, -a student in a theological seminary, is now a good friend of mine and -will remain so for all my life. He does not believe in God, but he -loves church music to tears. He plays psalms on the organ and weeps, -the dear wonder-child.</p> - -<p>I asked him laughing: "What are you howling at, you heretic, atheist?"</p> - -<p>He cried out, tremblingly: "From joy at the knowledge of the great -beauty which some day will be created. If already in this worldly and -wretched life beauty has been created with the insignificant strength -of individuals, what will be created on earth when the whole spiritual -world shall be free and shall begin to express the order of its great -spirit in psalms and music?"</p> - -<p>He began to speak about the future, which stood out with blinding -clearness to him, and he was himself surprised at his visions.</p> - -<p>I have much to be grateful for to this friend of mine, as much as to -Mikhail.</p> - -<p>I have seen marvelous people by tens, for they send me to one another -from city to city. I go as with fiery signals, and each one is kept -burning by the same faith. It is impossible to enumerate the various -people and to describe the joy at seeing the spiritual unity which lies -in all. Great is the Russian people and indescribably beautiful is -life.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h4><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI</a></h4> - - -<p>It was in the government of Kazan that my heart received the last blow, -the blow which finished the construction of the temple. It was at the -monastery of the Seven Seas, at a procession of the miracle-working -ikon of the Holy Virgin. They were expecting the return of this ikon to -the monastery from the city—the day was a holiday.</p> - -<p>I stood on a little hill above the lake and gazed about me. The -place-was filled with people, and the body of human beings streamed -in dark waves to the gates of the monastery, and fought and struggled -around its walls. The sun was setting and its autumn rays shone with -bright red. The bells trembled like birds ready to fly and follow their -own songs, and everywhere the bared heads of the people shone red in -the rays of the sun, like double poppies.</p> - -<p>Awaiting the miracle, near the gates of the monastery, stood a small -carriage, in which lay a young girl, motionless. Her face was set as if -in white wax, her gray eyes were half open, and all her life seemed to -be in the quiet fluttering of her long lashes.</p> - -<p>Next to her stood her parents. The father was a tall man, gray-bearded -and with a long nose. The mother, stout, round-faced, with uplifted -eyebrows and wide open eyes, gazed in front of her. Her fingers -moved and it seemed to me that she was about to give a piercing and -passionate cry.</p> - -<p>The people walked up to them, gazed upon the sick girl's face, and the -father spoke in measured tones, his beard trembling:</p> - -<p>"Orthodox Christians, I beg of you, pray for the unfortunate girl. -Without arms, without legs, she has been lying thus for four years. -Beg the Holy Virgin for aid. The Lord will reward you for your holy -prayers. Help deliver the parents from sorrow."</p> - -<p>It was plain that he had been carrying his daughter from monastery to -monastery for a long time and that he had already lost all hope of her -recovery. He poured out these same words over and over again and they -sounded dead in his mouth.</p> - -<p>The people listened to his prayers, sighed, crossed themselves, and the -lids which covered the sorrowful eyes of the young girl trembled.</p> - -<p>I must have seen about a score of weakened girls, about ten who were -supposed to be possessed, and other kinds of invalids, and I was always -conscience-stricken and ashamed before them. I pitied the poor bodies -robbed of strength and I pitied their vain waiting for a miracle. But -I never felt pity to such a degree as now. A great silent complaint -seemed frozen on the white half-dead face of the daughter and a silent -and indescribable sorrow seemed to control the mother.</p> - -<p>It was oppressive and I went away. Thousands of eyes were looking -toward the distance, and like a cloud there floated toward me the warm, -dull whisper: "They are carrying it."</p> - -<p>Heavily and slowly the crowd proceeded up the mountain like a dark wave -of the sea, and the golden banners burned like red foam, shooting out -their sheaves of bright sparks. The ikon of the holy virgin floated and -swung like a fiery bird shining in the rays of the sun. From the human -body a mighty sigh arose, a thousand-voiced song: "Intercede for us, O -mother of the Lord, most high."</p> - -<p>The song was cut short by cries: "Hurry! Move faster! Hurry!"</p> - -<p>The lake smiled brightly in the frame-work of the blue wood; the red -sun melted, sinking into the wood, and the copper sound of the bells -rang out gaily. Around me were anxious faces, the quiet and sorrowful -whispering of prayers, eyes dimmed with tears, and the waving of many, -many arms, making the sign of the cross.</p> - -<p>I was alone. All this was sad error for me, weak despair, a weary -desire for grace.</p> - -<p>The procession marched on, their faces covered with dust, streams of -sweat pouring down their cheeks. They breathed heavily, they gazed -strangely as if they saw nothing, and pushed one another and stumbled -along.</p> - -<p>I pitied them. I pitied the strength of their faith which was wasted -on the air. There was no end to this stream of people. A vigorous and -mighty cry arose, but it was dark and sounded reproachful:</p> - -<p>"Rejoice, O merciful one," and again, "Hurry! Hurry!"</p> - -<p>In this whole cloud of dust I saw hundreds of black faces, thousands -of eyes like stars on the milky way. I saw that those eyes were fiery -sparks from one soul, eagerly awaiting an unknowm joy.</p> - -<p>The people went down as one body, pressing close upon one another, -holding one another's hands and walking fast, as if the road was -terribly long, but they were ready to go to what was their end without -stopping.</p> - -<p>My soul trembled with an unknown pain. Like a prayer the words of Juna -rose in my memory: "The people—the creators of God."</p> - -<p>I started forward. I rushed from the mountain to meet the people, went -along with them and sang with a full throat: "Rejoice, beneficent -strength of all strengths!"</p> - -<p>They seized and embraced me, and I seemed to float away and to melt -under their hot breathing. I did not know that the earth was under my -feet, nor did I recognize myself. There was no time nor space, only -joy, vast like the heavens. I was like a glowing coal, flaming with -faith. I was unimportant yet great and resembled all who were around me -at the time of our general flight.</p> - -<p>"Hurry! Hurry!"</p> - -<p>The people flew over the earth irresistibly, ready to stride over all -obstacles and abysses, all doubts and dark fears. I remember that the -procession stopped close to me, that confusion occurred, that I was -dragged near the wagon of the sick girl and heard the cries and the -murmuring:</p> - -<p>"Let us sing the Te Deum; let us sing the Te Deum."</p> - -<p>There was great excitement. They pushed the wagon, and the head of -the young girl rocked to and fro, helpless and without strength. Her -large eyes gazed out with fear. Tens of eyes poured their rays out upon -her; hundreds of force streams crossed themselves over her weak body, -calling her to life with an imperious desire to see her rise from her -bed.</p> - -<p>I, too, looked into the depths of her eyes, and an inexpressible desire -came over me, in common with all, that she arise; not for my sake, nor -for her own sake, but for some special reason, before which she and I -were like a bird's feather in a fire.</p> - -<p>As rain saturates the earth with its live moisture, so the people -filled the dry body of the girl with their strength, and they whispered -and cried to her and to me:</p> - -<p>"Rise, dear one, rise. Lift your arms. Be not afraid. Arise, arise -without fear. Sick one, arise; dear one, lift your arms."</p> - -<p>Hundreds of stars arose in her soul and a pink shadow lit up her -death-like face, and her surprised and happy eyes opened still wider. -Her shoulders moved slowly and humbly she raised her trembling arms and -obediently held them up. Her mouth was open like a fledgling's about -to leave its nest for the first time. A deep sigh rose around her. As -though the earth where a copper bell, struck upon by a giant sviatogor -with all his strength, the people trembled, and laughing cried:</p> - -<p>"On your feet. Help her. Arise little one, on your feet. Help her."</p> - -<p>We caught the girl, lifted her and put her on her feet, holding her -lightly. She bent like an ear of corn in the wind, and cried out:</p> - -<p>"Oh, dear one, Lord; oh, Holy Virgin!"</p> - -<p>"Walk!" the people cried. "Walk!"</p> - -<p>I remember their dusty faces, tearful and sweaty. Through the damp -tears a miraculous strength shone out masterful, the faith in the power -to create miracles.</p> - -<p>The recovered girl walked quietly among us. Confidently she pressed her -revived body against the body of the people, and smiling and pale like -a flower, she said:</p> - -<p>"Let me go alone."</p> - -<p>She stopped, swayed, then walked. She walked as if on knives which -cut her feet, but she walked alone; fearful yet bold, like a little -child; and the people around her rejoiced and were friendly as to a -little child. She was excited. Her body trembled. She held her hands -out before her as if she were leaning against the air. She was filled -by the strength of the people and she was sustained from every side by -hundreds of luminous rays.</p> - -<p>I lost sight of her at the gates of the monastery, and recovering -myself, I gazed about me. Everywhere there was holiday tumult. There -was a ringing of bells and the powerful talk of the people. The evening -red fell brilliantly from the heavens and the lake clothed itself in -the purple of the reflection. A man walked past me, smiled and asked:</p> - -<p>"Did you see it?"</p> - -<p>I embraced him and kissed him, like a brother after a long separation, -and we found no words to say to each other. Smiling, we remained silent -and separated.</p> - -<hr /> -<p>At night I sat in the wood above the lake. Again I was alone, but now -forever and inseparably united to the soul of the people, the masters -and miracle workers of the earth. I sat and listened to all that I had -seen and known grow and burn within me in one fire.—I, too, would -reflect to the world this light in which everything flamed with great -significance and was clothed with the miraculous. It winged my soul -with a desire to accept the world as it had accepted me.</p> - -<p>I have no words to describe the exultation of that night, when, alone -in the darkness, I embraced the whole earth with my love and stood on -the height of my experience and saw the world, like a fiery stream -of life-force, flowing turbidly to unite into one current, the end of -which I could not see. I joyfully understood that the inaccessibility -of the end was the source of the infinite growth of my soul and the -great earthly beauty. And in this infinity were the innumerable joys of -the live human soul.</p> - -<p>In the morning the sun appeared to me with a new face. I saw how its -rays cautiously and lovingly sank into the darkness and turned it -away; how it lifted from the earth the veils of night, and there she -stood before me in the beautiful and magnificent jewels of autumn; the -emerald field of the great play of peoples and the fight for free play -was the holy place in the procession of the celebration of beauty and -truth.</p> - -<p>I saw the earth, my mother, in space between the stars, and brightly -she gazed out with her ocean eyes into the distance and the depths. I -saw her like a full bowl of bright red, incessantly seething, human -blood, and I saw her master, the all-powerful, immortal people.</p> - -<p>They winged her life with a great activity and hope, and I prayed:</p> - -<p>"Thou art my God, the creator of all gods, which thou weavest out of -the beauty of thy soul and the labor and agony of thy seeking.</p> - -<p>"There shall be no God but thou, for thou art the one God, the creator -of miracles."</p> - -<p>This is what I believe and confess.</p> - -<p>And always do I return there where people free the souls of their -neighbors from the yoke of darkness and superstition and unite them -and disclose to them their own secret physiognomy, and aid them to -recognize the strength of their own wills and teach them the one and -true path to a general union for the sake of the great cause, the cause -of the universal creating of God.</p> - -<h4>THE END</h4> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Confession, by Maxim Gorky - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONFESSION *** - -***** This file should be named 55828-h.htm or 55828-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/8/2/55828/ - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version,also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... 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