Chapter 5 Volume 2 The Untimely Party
It was a fine day in late August, sunny and warm.The meeting with the elders was scheduled after early mass, around eleven thirty.Our guests, however, did not come to Mass, which had just ended when they arrived at the monastery.They were divided into two carriages: the first was very handsome, with two expensive horses harnessed, in which Pyotr Alexandrovich Miusov was accompanied by a very young distant relation, the second The ten-year-old Peter Fomich Karganov, who was planning to go to university, stayed temporarily at Miusov's house for some reason, and Miusov urged him to go abroad with him, to Zurich or Jena went to college and finished her studies.The young man has not yet made up his mind.He is pensive and seems a little careless.He has a good-looking face and a heavy build.Like all absent-minded people, he often had a strange fixed look in his eyes, and he would sometimes stare at you for a long time without seeing you.He is taciturn and has a bit of a clumsy manner, but when he is alone with someone, he often suddenly becomes very talkative, impulsive, and loves to laugh, laughing for no reason.However, his activity came and went quickly.His attire was always neat, even elegant.He already has a property at his own disposal, and expects to receive a larger share.He and Alyosha are good friends.
Fyodor Pavlovich and his son Ivan Fyodorovitch were in another, rather old, creaking, but quite spacious carriage, this one with two gray-red horses. The old horse's cab fell far behind Miusov and the others.Dmitry Fyodorovich had been notified of the exact time the day before, but he still did not arrive.The guests parked their carriages by the guest house outside the walls and entered the monastery gate.Except for Fyodor Pavlovich, the other three seem to have never seen the monastery, and Miusov seems not to have even entered the church door for more than thirty years.He looked around, with a bit of curiosity, but pretended to be careless.For an observant man like him, there was nothing worth seeing inside the monastery, except for some extremely ordinary church buildings and living facilities.The last group of believers are taking off their hats, crossing themselves, and leaving the church one after another.Amongst the crowd of commoners there were also a few persons of higher rank, two or three ladies, and an old general, all of whom lived in guest houses.The beggars cheered and surrounded us guests, but no one gave them alms.Only Pyotr Karganov took out a ten-kopeck piece of silver from his wallet, and for some reason, as if he had done something wrong, he hastily handed it to a country woman, saying hastily: "Take it and divide it. "Actually, none of the people walking with him paid attention to this matter, so he didn't need to be embarrassed at all; but after realizing this, he became even more embarrassed.
It stands to reason that they should be welcomed, even grandly treated.For one of them had not long ago given away a thousand rubles; the other was a wealthy landowner, very learned, and, depending on the probable outcome of the lawsuit, whether the monastery could fish in the river was to some extent questionable. It's up to him.But it was strange that none of the leading figures in the monastery came out to receive them.Miusov looked casually at the tombstones next to the church. He wanted to say that it must cost a lot of money to choose a grave in such a "sacred place", but he didn't say it: the expression on his face changed, the usual Liberal sarcasm has almost turned to outrage.
"Damn it, who are you going to ask in this messy place... It's getting late to solve this problem." He suddenly said to himself.
Suddenly, a slightly bald old gentleman in a large summer coat, with small sweet eyes and slightly bald hair came towards them.He raised his hat a little, introduced himself to everyone in a lisp as Maximov, the landowner of Tula.He understood right away what we, the guests, were looking for.
"Elder Zosima lives in the hermitage. The hermitage is isolated from the outside world. It is about four hundred steps away from the monastery. You have to go through the grove, through the grove..."
"I know I'm going through the woods, too," Fyodor Pavlovitch replied, "but I don't remember the way. We haven't been here for a long time."
"Enter this gate, and go straight through the grove... through the grove, let's go, I'll lead the way...I'll take you there myself...go here, go here..."
They went through the gate and walked toward a small wood.Landlord Maximov was about sixty years old. He didn't seem to be walking, but he was jogging all the way, and while he was running, he looked at them carefully from one side with impatient curiosity.His eyes seemed to pop out.
"Do you know that we have come to see the elder on a private matter," said Miusov solemnly, "or that we have come to 'see' the elder. We are very grateful for your kindness, but we do not I will ask you to come in with us."
"I've been there, I've been there, I've been there...a veritable knight." The landowner snapped his fingers in the air as he spoke.
"Who is the knight?" asked Miusov.
"O Elder, excellent Elder, Elder... the honor and pride of the monastery. Zossima, a great Elder."
At this moment, a little cultivator chased after him, interrupting his inconsistent words.The little monk was thin and thin, wearing a tall monk hat, and his face was extremely pale.Fyodor Pavlovich and Miusov stopped.The little monk bowed almost ninety degrees very politely, and said:
"The director invites gentlemen to dine with him after the visit. It's one o'clock, please don't be late. Please come too," he said, turning to Maximov.
"I will obey!" exclaimed Fyodor Pavlovitch, who was delighted to hear the director's invitation. "Definitely. You know, we all promise to behave properly here... Will you go, Pyotr Alexandrovitch?"
"Why not! What would I do here if it wasn't to see their customs? There is only one thing that bothers me, and that is that I must accompany you now, Fyodor Pavlo Vicki..."
"Yes, Dmitri Fyodorovitch has not come yet."
"It's fine if he doesn't come. Am I happy to watch you quarrel and stay with you all the time? We must arrive before lunch. Please thank the abbot for us." He said to the little monk.
"No, I still have to take you to see the elder." The little monk replied.
"In that case, I'll go straight to the director, right now," muttered the landowner Maximov.
"The dean is busy now, but you can figure it out..." the little monk said hesitantly.
"The little old man is annoying," Miusov said aloud after the landlord Maximov returned to the monastery.
"He's really like von Zorn," Fyodor Pavlovitch said suddenly.
"That's all you know... How does he look like Von Zorn? Have you ever seen Von Zorn?"
"I've seen a picture of him. Although the shape of the face is different, there is an indescribable similarity. It is a complete copy of Von Zorn. I can tell it just by looking at the face."
"Perhaps so, you are an expert in this matter. But one thing, Fyodor Pavlovich, you just mentioned yourself that we promise to behave, and you must remember that. I will tell you , you have to get hold of yourself. If you play the role of the buffoon again, I don't want people to think that I am like you... You see, that's what he is," he said to the little monk. "I'm afraid to go with him to meet well-behaved people."
There was a sly smile on the corner of the little monk's pale, bloodless mouth, but he didn't answer anything. It was obvious that he kept silent out of self-esteem.Miusov frowned even more.
"Hey, what a fucking ghost, these guys pretend to be dignified on the surface, but they are intriguing and doing evil in their hearts!" he thought in his mind.
"This is the hermitage, here we are!" cried Fyodor Pavlovich. "The wall blocks the way, and the gate is closed."
He went to sign the sign of the sign of the cross above and on either side of the gate.
"When you enter a monastery, you have to abide by the rules of the monastery." He said. "There are twenty-five saints practicing here. They look at me all day, and I look at you. They are vegetarians and fast, and no women are allowed in. It is really amazing. It is true. But I heard that the elders also receive wives Guys, is there such a thing?" He suddenly asked the little monk.
"Now here are the women of the common people, you see, lying there in the cloister over there, waiting to be received. There are also two small rooms here for the ladies of the upper class, just on the cloister, outside the wall, and lo, Those are the windows. When the elders are healthy, they come out to meet them through the inner passage, that is to say, there is a wall in between. Now there is a wife, a landowner from Kharkov, Khokhlako Mrs. Wa is waiting to be interviewed with her emaciated daughter. Probably the elder has promised to interview them, although he has been very weak recently and rarely shows up in public.”
"So there is still a passage from the hermitage to the ladies. Father, don't think I'm insinuating, I'm just saying it. Do you know, in Assos, have you heard, Not only women are prohibited from pilgrimage, even female animals are not allowed to exist, such as hens, turkeys, and cows, are not allowed to exist..."
"Fyodor Pavlovitch, I'm going home, and you're left here alone. They'll drag you out while I'm gone, and I warn you for that."
"I'm in your way, Pyotr Alexandrovitch! Just look," he cried suddenly, stepping across the monastery wall. "Look, they live in a sea of roses."
Indeed, though there are no roses now, there are plenty of rare and dazzling autumn flowers, and there are flowers everywhere that can be grown.The flowers are obviously well tended by experienced people.Beside the church wall and in the surrounding cemetery, there are flower beds scattered here and there.Flowers were also planted around the wooden bungalow with a porch where the elder's monastery was located.
"Did Elder Varsonofy have these flowers when he was alive before? I heard that he didn't like beautiful things, and when he saw women, he would get angry and even beat them with a cane." Fyodor Pavlovichden Said while going up the steps.
"Elder Valsonofi is indeed a little crazy sometimes, but people say it's too outrageous. He never hit anyone with a cane," replied the little monk. "Now, gentlemen, please wait a moment, I will report first."
"Listen, Fyodor Pavlovich, I will remind you for the last time: behave yourself, or I will be rude to you," Miusov warned again.
"I don't understand why you are so excited," Fyodor Pavlovich sneered. "Perhaps you are afraid of committing a crime? I heard that you can tell what a person is going to do just by looking in his eyes. But why do you place so much importance on their opinions? You are astonishing as a resident of Paris!"
Before Miusov could react to his sarcasm, they were already invited in.He was still on fire when he entered...
"Well, I know that if I get angry, I will argue with them, but when I get angry, I will belittle myself and my ideals." This thought flashed in his mind.
They entered the room almost at the same time as the elder.The elder came out of his little bedroom as soon as he saw them.In the monastery, two hermit priests who had arrived earlier than them were already waiting for the elders, one of them was the priest in charge of the library, the other was the sick priest of Baisi, who was not very old, but he was said to be very healthy. knowledge.Also, there was a young lad waiting in the corner (he remained there afterwards).The lad looked to be about twenty-one years of age, wore a clerical frock coat, was a seminarian, a future theologian, and for some unknown reason was taken care of by a monastery and order of monks.He was a tall, rosy-cheeked man with high cheekbones, small, intelligent, intent chestnut eyes, and a face that was courteous but well-mannered and not substantive.He didn't even bow when the guests came in, even though he was not equal to them, on the contrary, he was still in a position of dependence.
Elder Zosima came out accompanied by Alyosha and a novice.The two priests stood up, bowed deeply to him, touched the ground with their fingers, accepted the elder's blessing, and kissed his hand.After blessing them, the elders also touched the ground with their fingers, bowed deeply to them, and asked each of them to bless themselves.The whole ceremony was serious throughout, almost emotional, not at all like an everyday routine.But Miusov felt that all this was a deliberate feign.He stood at the head of the few companions who entered the room with him.It stands to reason that even out of the most common courtesy (as is the custom here), despite the difference in belief, one should go up to the elder and ask for a blessing, and if not kiss his hand, at least accept it.He had already considered this point last night.But seeing the two priests bowing like this and kissing his hand, he immediately changed his mind: he made a solemn, secular bow, and went up to his chair.Fyodor Pavlovich imitated Miusov exactly like a monkey, and did the same.Ivan Fyodorovitch also bowed solemnly and courteously, and put his hands in the seams of his trousers so that they did not touch the ground.And Karganov was so flustered that he forgot to bow.The elder put down the hand that had been raised to bless them, bowed to them again, and asked everyone to sit down.Alyosha's cheeks were flushed.He was ashamed of all the ominous premonitions he had experienced.
The elder sat down on a very old-style mahogany leather sofa, and invited the guests, except for the two priests, to sit on four mahogany chairs with worn black leather coverings against the opposite wall, and the four of them were close to each other.The two priests sat on either side, one by the door and the other by the window.The seminarian, Alyosha, and the novice remained standing.The entire monastery room is very small, revealing a decadent atmosphere.The furnishing was rather rough and shabby, but essential things.There were two potted flowers on the window sill, and many holy images hung in the corners, including a large one of the Madonna, painted about before the schism.There are two other icons in bright robes, carved cherubs, porcelain eggs, a Catholic cross made of ivory and the Madonna of Sorrow holding a cross, and several copies Foreign engravings by Italian masters of previous centuries.Beside these exquisite and precious engravings are several brightly colored pictures of saints, martyrs, archbishops, etc., which are very ordinary Russian pictures which can be bought in any market for a few kopecks.There are also several portraits of current and former Russian archbishops, but they hang on other walls.Miusov quickly scanned through these "cookies" things, and then looked at the elder intently.He had great faith in his own eyesight.This weakness is at least forgivable if one considers that he is over fifty years old, at which age the average rich and intelligent gentleman tends to grow more and more self-righteous, sometimes even involuntarily. .
He didn't like the elders from the beginning.Indeed, there was something in the elder's face that disliked not only Miusov, but many others.He was short in stature, with a stooped waist and thin legs. Although he was only sixty-five years old, he looked much older because of his illness, at least ten years older than his actual age.His thin face was covered with fine wrinkles, especially around the eyes.His eyes are not big, but the eyeballs are bright and flexible, piercing like two shining spots of light.There are only a few white hairs left on the temples, a sparse, thin, wedge-shaped beard, and two lips that often smile are as thin as two lines.The nose is not long, but it is as sharp as a bird's beak.
"From all indications, this is a vicious, arrogant and small soul." Miusov's mind flashed through such thoughts.In short, he was very unhappy.
The chime of the hour helped get them started.The little cheap pendent clock on the wall struck a full twelve quickly.
"The appointed time has come," cried Fyodor Pavlovitch. "But my son Dmitri Fyodorovich has not come yet. I apologize for him, Holy Elder! (Alyosha shudders when he says 'Holy Elder') I I have always followed the time, not missing a single minute, and I always remember that being on time is the courtesy of the king..."
"However, you are not yet the king," Miusov couldn't help saying.
"Yes, yes, I'm not the king. But you know, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, I know it myself, indeed! You see, I never get the point of my words! My esteemed master!" He suddenly became enthusiastic and impassioned. "You see, there is a veritable clown standing before you! That's how I introduce myself. Oh, I'm used to it! Sometimes I babble at the wrong time, and it's done on purpose, to make everyone laugh and make everyone happy. .Should be likable, right? Seven or eight years ago I went to a small city on some errands, met some businessmen there, and we went to see the chief of police, and we asked him to have dinner with us. The Chief of Police came out. He was a tall, fat, fair-haired, sullen guy. The kind of guy you get in these things is often the hardest to deal with. They're very hot-tempered. I went right up to him. , you know, said to him with the indifference of a gentleman: 'Mr. Police Commissioner, please be our Napravnik!' He asked: 'What Napravnik?' I looked at the matter No. He stood there with a serious face. So I said: 'I just wanted to make a joke, let everyone have a good time, Mr. Napravnik is our famous Russian orchestra conductor, in order to make our business For the sake of coordination, it seems that we also need such a command...' My explanation and metaphor make sense, don't I? He said: 'I am the police chief, and I will never allow my office to be made into a wisecrack.' said He turned and left. I ran after him and shouted: 'Yes, yes, you are the Chief of Police. You are not Napravnik!' He said, 'No, since I have said that, I am Napravnik. Plavnik.' You see, our business has gone so badly! I have always been like this, always will be. Kindness is never reciprocated. Once, many years ago, I treated a very A powerful person said: "Your Excellency, your wife is a very sensitive woman." I mean that she does not allow others to touch her in terms of reputation, that is, in terms of chastity. He immediately asked me: "Then you have touched Is she?' I couldn't help suddenly wanting to say a wisecrack: 'Yes, my lord, I touched her.' And he hit me right away... But it happened a long time ago, so I'm not afraid that everyone will laugh at me when I come out. I always make fun of myself!"
"You are doing the same now," whispered Miusov in disgust.The elder watched them both in silence.
"It seems so. You see, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, I know that myself. You know, I had a premonition when I started talking, and you know, I even had a premonition that you would be the first." Point it out to me. The moment I see my jokes fail, my lord, my cheeks will cling to the lower gums like a cramp, as I did when I was young and dined in the houses of the nobles. It started when I was dawdling. Dear elder, I was born a real clown, just like the kind of people who are born crazy. I don’t deny that I have a devil in me, but it’s just a little ghost. The big ghost will Attached to others, but not to you, Peter Alexandrovich, you are not a big man. But I have faith, I believe in God. I have only recently begun to doubt, but I am still sitting here Waiting for important lectures. My lord priest, I am like the philosopher Diderot. Father, do you know how the philosopher Diderot went to see Platon, the archbishop of Catherine's time? As soon as he entered He said straight to the point: "There is no God." The archbishop raised his finger and replied: "Even a madman has God in his heart." Diderot knelt down and said loudly: "I believe in God, and I am willing to be baptized." ' He was baptized at once. Princess Dashkova was his godmother, Potemkin his godfather..."
"Fyodor Pavlovich, this is intolerable! You know perfectly well that this is nonsense, and your stupid joke is pure nonsense, so why are you pretending to be crazy?" Miusov said She couldn't control herself at all, and even her voice trembled when she spoke.
"I knew it was all nonsense!" cried Fyodor Pavlovich enthusiastically. "But, gentlemen, I want to tell you the truth: the Presbyterian is a great man! Excuse me, but that last incident, that of Diderot's baptism, was just improvised by me. Never thought of it. Made it up for fun. Pyotr Alexandrovitch, I play crazy for the sake of being popular. But sometimes I don't know exactly why. As for Diderot , then I have heard more than twenty times that he was 'a complete madman' from the local landowners, where I was a diner in my youth. Pyotr Alexandrovich, I learned from your aunt Mavra Fommi They also heard similar things from Nishna. They still believe that Diderot, who does not believe in God, went to the Archbishop Platon to argue with him whether there is a God..."
Miusov stood up, not only lost his patience, but even lost his reason.He was shaking with rage, and he realized how ridiculous he must look.The same is true, what happened in the monastery before me is unbelievable.For forty or fifty years, as long ago as the original elders were alive, visitors from all over the world had gathered in this monastery, always with deep admiration and no other thoughts.Almost all those who were received entered the cell knowing that it was a great favor bestowed upon them.Many people prostrate themselves on the ground and refuse to get up.Many "upper" people, even those who are highly educated, and even some free-thinkers, who, out of curiosity or otherwise, follow everyone into the cell or receive a private audience, without exception, regard the respect and courtesy as the first and last. My first task, not to mention that there is no fee here, one part is just out of love and compassion, and the other part is for confession and eager to solve a certain problem in the soul or dissolve the crisis of inner life.Consequently, Fyodor Pavlovich's sudden clownishness, which was completely out of tune with his surroundings, confused and astonished the witnesses, at least some of them.But the two priests remained calm, watching the elder's reaction with serious expressions, but they seemed to be ready to stand up like Miusov.Alyosha stood there with his head bowed, almost crying.What surprised him most was that his second brother, Ivan Fyodorovich, the only one he had counted on to influence his father and stop his mischief, was now sitting almost motionless on a chair with his head bowed, evidently harboring a kind of A curious curiosity waiting to see how it would all end, as if he were a complete stranger here.As for Rakitin, the seminarian whom Alyosha was so familiar with and even very close to, Alyosha dared not even glance at; idea.
"Excuse me..." said Miusov to the elder, "perhaps you think that I also took part in this unseemly joke. My mistake was that I believed that even a man like Fyodor Pavlovich , always aware of one's duty when visiting an awe-inspiring person... I really didn't expect to have to apologize to you just because I came with him..."
Pyotr Alexandrovitch was so ashamed that he wanted to leave before he had finished speaking.
"Please don't worry," said the elder, standing up suddenly on his limp legs, and taking Pyotr Alexandrovitch's hands, made him sit down again in his original position. "Don't worry, I really hope you will be my guest." After speaking, he bowed, turned around and returned to his little sofa.
"Great Elder, please tell me something, am I tarnishing your identity by being so casual?" Fyodor Pavlovich suddenly asked loudly, grasping the armrests of the chair tightly with both hands, with that attitude. As if ready to jump out of the chair at any time according to the elder's answer.
"I beg you not to worry, and not to feel restrained," the elder said to him solemnly. "You don't have to be restrained, just as you are at home, the main thing is that you don't feel ashamed, because everything comes from that."
"Exactly at home? That is, as I am? Oh, that's too much, too much—but I'd be more than happy to take your advice! You know, my abbot, don't make me be what I am." Don't take the risk, I don't even dare to restore myself to my original self. I will tell you this in advance, and it is for your own good, but the rest is unknown for the time being, although some people try to make me as ugly as possible. This I am speaking to you, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, and as for you, Holy Elder, I say: I am very, very happy," he said, rising up, throwing up his hands. "'Blessed is the belly that bears you, and the teat that feeds you, and the teat that feeds you is especially blessed!' You said to me just now: 'Don't be ashamed, for everything comes from this!' You hit the nail on the head and it hit me sorely. I get that feeling when I'm in a relationship with people, I always feel like I'm meaner than everyone else, and everyone thinks I'm a clown, so I think: 'That's it. Let me really play the part of a clown, and I'm not afraid of your gossip, because you're all meaner than I am!' So I'm a clown, a clown because I'm ashamed, great elder , it's all out of self-ashamedness, and I'm misbehaving like this because I'm suspicious. If I'm sure that people will immediately regard me as an extremely cute and intelligent person when I interact with others, my God, then I must become a very kind person! Master! "Speaking, he suddenly knelt down on the ground. "How can I get eternal life?"
It's still hard to tell at this point: Was he joking, or was he genuinely moved?
The elder looked up at him, smiled and said:
"You already know what to do, you're quite clever, you don't drink, you don't talk, you don't love women, and you don't want money, you're going to close your taverns, if not all, then at least Two or three. The main thing, the most important thing is not to lie."
"Is it about Diderot?"
"No, not about Diderot. The main thing, the most important thing is not to lie to yourself. Anyone who lies to himself and believes his own lie often falls to the point where he can't tell right from wrong, can't tell himself They cannot distinguish right from wrong, and they cannot distinguish right from wrong in the outside world, so they do not respect themselves and others. Since they do not respect anyone, there is no love. Since they lack love, they indulge lust for entertainment and do many evils, and finally become Beast, it's all about lying to yourself and others. He who lies to himself is more likely to be wronged than anyone, and is willing to be wronged sometimes, isn't he? He knows no one bullies him, and imagines that he is Great grievances, lying for the sake of face, exaggerating for the sake of publicity, chattering, making a fuss, calling a pea a mountain—he knows all these things, but he still has to pretend to be wronged at every turn, so that his heart is full of grievances. Comfortable, even terrifically gratified, and really resentful at the end. Get up and sit down in your chair, I beg you, to know that all this is just as much hypocrisy..."
"My dear! Let me kiss your hand." Fyodor Pavlovitch jumped up and quickly kissed the emaciated hand of the elder. "It's true. I really feel comfortable being bullied. You're so good. I've never heard anyone say that. It's true. I feel wronged all my life, but I feel very comfortable in my heart. I do it for pleasure. Those who are wronged, because being bullied not only feel comfortable in their hearts, but sometimes they feel very glorious. Great elder, you forgot to say: very glorious! I want to record this sentence in the notebook! Yes, I lied, for the rest of my life Lying, lying every day, lying all the time. I am a lie myself, the father of lies! But maybe not the father of lies, I always use wrong words, I am the son of lies, and that is enough! But... my angel... those things about Diderot can be said sometimes! It doesn't hurt to say Diderot, but it hurts to say otherwise. Great abbot, I almost forgot, never I've been wanting to inquire since the year before last, and just wanted to ask one thing here. But please don't let Pyotr Alexandrovitch interrupt me. My great elder, what I want to ask is whether there is such a thing: " It is said in the Book of Daily Scriptures that a saint who manifested himself was suffering because of his belief, and his head was finally cut off. At this time, he stood up, picked up his head and 'kissed' it. He walked for a long time, holding hands while walking. 'Kissing' his head. Is there such a thing, honest priests?"
"There is no such thing," said the elder.
"There is no such content in the "Book of the Day, Scripture, and Moon". Which saint are you talking about?" asked the priest in charge of the book.
"I don't know who it is. I don't know and I don't know. It was told, I was deceived. I heard it told. Do you know who said it? It was Peter Alexandrovitch Miusov, he was angry about Diderot just now, and that's what he said."
"I never told you such a thing, and I never spoke to you."
"Yes, you did not tell me alone, but in the presence of many people, and I was there, three years ago. The reason I mentioned it, Peter Alexandrovitch, It was because of your amusing story that my faith was shaken. You don't know it, you don't understand it, I came home with a shaken faith, and I've been shaken more and more ever since. Yes, You, Pyotr Alexandrovitch, are the source of my downfall! It has nothing to do with Diderot!"
Fyodor Pavlovitch spoke passionately, although it was understood that he was acting again.But Miusov was deeply hurt by his words.
"What nonsense," he muttered, "perhaps I did say it before... but not to you. I heard it myself. I heard it from a Frenchman in Paris, It seems that we all read this story in the "Monthly Book of the Day" when we celebrate Mass here...the Frenchman is very learned and specializes in Russian statistics...lived in Russia for a long time...I didn't have it myself I have read "Daily Classes, Classics, Moon Books"... and I don't want to read it... Isn't there too little chatting at the dinner table? We were having dinner..."
"Yes, you were eating, and I lost my faith!" said Fyodor Pavlovitch sarcastically.
"Your beliefs are none of my business!" Miusov was about to shout at him, but suddenly restraining himself, he said contemptuously: "When you mess with anything, it becomes a mess."
The elder stood up suddenly.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, I will be away for a while," he said to all the visitors.
"The people who came before you are still waiting for me. You better not lie," he said to Fyodor Pavlovitch, smiling.
He walked out of the monastery.Alyosha and a novice ran to help him down the steps.Alyosha was breathing heavily.他为自己能离开而感到高兴，他也为长老没有生气，反而心情愉快而高兴。长老朝回廊走去，他要为等候他的人祝福。可是费奥多尔·巴夫洛维奇还是在修道室的门口拦住了他。
“大善人哪！”他充满感情地喊道。“请允许我再一次吻您的手！是的，跟您还可以说话，可以相处！您以为我一直在撒谎，一直在充当小丑吗？您该知道，我这样做是故意的，为了试探您才这样装疯卖傻。我一直在试探您，看是不是可以跟您相处？您的高傲是否允许我的恭顺占有一席之地？现在我要给您颁发一份奖状：跟您是可以相处的！现在我要保持沉默，始终不说话。我这就坐到椅子上，不再开口。彼得·亚历山德罗维奇，现在该您说话了，现在您是这儿最主要的角色……时间是十分钟。”
紧挨着院墙外侧的木回廊下面，这时候聚集着一群妇女，二十来个乡下女人。她们已经被告知，长老最后总会来接见她们的，因此她们都等在那儿。女地主霍赫拉科娃也来到了回廊里，她也在等候长老，不过是在一间专门为贵客准备的房间里。她们是母女俩。母亲霍赫拉科娃太太很有钱，衣着打扮向来十分高雅，她还相当年轻，模样十分标致，脸色略显苍白，有一对灵活的黑眼睛。她至多不超过三十三岁，可守寡已经五年。她那可怜的十四岁女儿双脚瘫痪，已经有半年不能行走了，只能坐在又长又稳的轮椅上让人推来推去。她的小脸蛋长得很美，虽然由于疾病而略显消瘦，可始终乐呵呵的。她的眼睫毛很长，眼睛又黑又大，闪着调皮的光芒。早在春天的时候她母亲就打算把她带到国外去，可到了夏天又因为安排田庄上的事情耽误下来了。她们在我们城里已经住了将近一个多星期，主要是为了处理事务，其次才是为了朝圣。不过三天前已经见过一次长老。现在她们又突然来了，尽管知道长老几乎不再接待任何人，她们还是苦苦哀求，希望能再一次“有幸见到伟大的治病者”。
母亲坐在轮椅旁的椅子上等候长老出来，离她两步远的地方站着一位年老的修士，他不是这个修道院的人，而是从遥远的北方一座名不见经传的小修道院来的。他也想请长老祝福。长老来到回廊，首先径直向众人走去。人们朝门廊拥过来，那门廊的三级台阶将低矮的回廊和空地联在一起。长老站到最上面的那级台阶上，披上肩带，开始替那些拥挤在他身旁的女人们祝福。一位疯疯癫癫的女人被人抓住双手，拉到长老面前。那女人一见长老便突然莫名其妙地尖叫起来，喉咙哽噎，浑身颤抖，就像产妇惊厥似的。长老把肩带放在她头上，为她念了一段简短的祷文，那女人立即安静下来，不再叫闹了。我不知道现在怎么样，反正我小时候在乡下和修道院里经常见到这种疯疯癫癫的女人，也经常听到她们的叫喊。她们被带到教堂做弥撒，她们尖声号叫，或者像狗叫似的闹得整个教堂不得安宁。可是当端上圣餐，人们把她们带去领受圣餐时，“疯癫”立即停止，这些病人总能安静一段时间。这种变化常常使我这个孩子感到惊讶。不过，当时我听另外一些地主，尤其是城里的教师们回答我的问题时说，这一切都是假装出来的，其目的是不想干活，只要采取必要的严厉措施，随时都可以根治。为了证明这一点，他们还讲了各种各样的笑话。可是后来我从医学专家那儿惊讶地了解到，这里根本没有丝毫假装的成分，这是一种可怕的妇女病，主要发生在我们俄罗斯，这说明我国乡下女人的命运特别悲惨。这病是因为在缺乏任何医疗条件的痛苦的难产之后马上从事繁重的体力劳动引起的，除此之外，还因为难以排解的悲伤、挨打，等等。有些女人天生无法像大多数人那样忍受这些折磨。只要把这些处于癫狂状态乱喊乱叫的女人带到圣餐面前，她们的病往往一下子会奇怪地消失。人们向我解释说这是假装出来的，甚至说是“教派分子”玩弄的花招。其实，这也许是极自然的事情。那些带病人去领受圣餐的乡下女人，主要是病人自己，全都像坚信颠扑不破的真理那样相信：如果把病人带去领受圣餐，那么附在病人身上的魔鬼无论如何也会坚持不住的。因此，当神经和心理上有病的女人领受圣餐的那一刻，她们整个机体一定会经受剧烈的震荡，引起这种现象的原因是她们完全坚信并且期待着一定会出现治愈的奇迹，于是，这种奇迹果然出现了，尽管只持续了一分钟。现在的情况正是这样，长老刚把肩带放到病人身上，奇迹马上出现了。
挤在长老身边的许多女人被一时的效果感动得流下了欣喜的眼泪，另外一些女人挤过去哪怕是吻一吻他的衣角也感到满足，也有人不知为什么在那儿哭泣。长老为大家祈祷祝福，还跟一部分人交谈。那个疯疯癫癫的女人他已经认识，她就住在附近，离修道院六俄里的那个村庄里，再说以前她家里的人领她到这儿来过。
“你是远道而来啊！”他指着一位年纪不大，但形容枯瘦的女人说。那女人脸色发黑，但不像是被太阳晒的。她跪在地上，眼睛直勾勾地望着长老，她的目光中似乎有一种呆滞麻木的神色。
“大老远来的，长老，大老远来的，离这儿三百俄里。大老远来的，长老，大老远来的。”那女人不知为什么慢慢地摇晃着脑袋，一只手托着腮帮子，拖长了声音说道。她说话的腔调就像哭泣似的。老百姓中间有一种沉默无言的一忍再忍的悲伤，这悲伤只埋藏在心底，永远不会流露出来。但也有一种外露的悲伤，有时候通过眼泪加以宣泄，从而变成嘤嘤啜泣。这种情况女人居多，其悲伤的程度并不亚于默默无言的悲伤。嘤嘤啜泣不仅无法给人以慰藉，反而更加撕心裂肺。这种悲伤也不希望别人去安慰，它全靠无法排解的感觉而滋长。嘤嘤啜泣只不过是一种不断刺激创伤的手段罢了。
“你是城里人吧？”长老问道，好奇地打量着她。
“我们是城里人，长老，城里人，出生在乡下，住在城里，是城里人。我到这儿来是为了见一见你。我们听说了你的情况，长老，听说了。我埋葬了小儿子就出来求上帝了。我到过三个修道院，他们指点我说：'娜斯塔茜娅，你上那儿去吧。'就是到您这儿，亲爱的，到您这儿。这样我就来了，昨天住了一宿，今天就上您这儿来了。”
“你有什么伤心的事吗？”
“可怜我那小儿子，长老，才三岁，差两三个月就满三岁了。我想儿子想得好苦啊，长老。我就剩这么个儿子了，我跟尼基图什卡生了四个孩子，可一个都没能活下来，亲爱的，一个都没能活下来。我埋葬了前面三个孩子，也没有太伤心，可埋了这最后一个，心里怎么也忘不掉。就好像还站在我面前，不肯离去，我的心都碎了。一见到他贴肉穿的衬衫衬裤，一件小衬衫或者一双小靴子，我就忍不住要大哭一场。我把他死后留下的东西翻出来，一面看一面哭，我对我丈夫尼基图什卡说，当家的，你让我去求上帝吧！我丈夫是马车夫，我们并不穷，长老，我们不穷，我们有马也有车，全是自己的，可我们这些家当现在又有什么用处呢？只要我不在，我的尼基图什卡就会生病，这是肯定的，以前就是这样：我一转身，他就没有力气了。现在我也不去牵挂他了，我离家已经三个月，我什么都不记得了，全忘了，什么也不愿想了。现在我跟他在一起还有什么意思？我跟他之间已经没有牵挂了，跟所有的人都无牵无挂了。现在我不想再看见自己的房子、自己的家产，我什么也不想看见！”
“我要告诉你这当母亲的，”长老说道，“古代一位伟大的圣徒有一次在教堂里看到一位像你一样哭哭啼啼的母亲，她也因为唯一的孩子让上帝召唤去了而心痛万分。圣徒对她说：'也许你不知道，这些孩子在上帝的宝座前面是多么勇敢。天国里甚至没有比他们更勇敢的了。他们对上帝说：主啊，你赐予了我们生命，可我们刚开始领略生的乐趣，你马上又收回去了。他们那么大胆地向上帝请求，上帝只好立即赐予他们天使的头衔。圣徒说，所以你这当母亲的应该高兴，不必哭泣，你的孩子成了上帝的一名天使。'这就是古时候圣徒对一位哭泣的女人所说的话。他是一位伟大的圣徒，不可能说假话，所以你这当母亲的也应该知道，你的孩子现在正站在上帝的宝座面前，他很高兴，也很快活，还在为你向上帝祈祷。所以你也不必哭泣，应该高兴才是。”
女人手托着面颊，低着头听长老开导。她深深地叹了口气。
“尼基图什卡也这样安慰我，说的话也一模一样，'你这傻女人，'他说，'你哭什么呢，我们的儿子现在肯定在主那儿，跟天使一起唱赞美诗呢。'他说这话的时候自己也哭了，我见他跟我一样也在哭。我说：'尼基图什卡，这我知道，我们的孩子不在上帝身边又能在哪儿呢！不过他现在不在我们这儿，尼基图什卡，不在我们身边，不像从前那样坐在我们面前！'我真想看他一眼，哪怕只要再看他一眼也好，我可以不走到他跟前，可以一声不吭，躲在角落里，只要能看他一会儿，听他怎样在院子里玩耍，像从前那样回来奶声奶气地叫一声'妈，你在哪儿'，我只想听听他迈着小腿在房间里走动的声音，听听他笃笃的走路声，我记得他常常这样跑到我身边，又是喊又是笑。我只想听一听他的脚步声，我一听就能听出来！可是他不在了！长老，不在了，我再也听不到他的声音了！你看，这是他的腰带，可他人不在了，现在我怎么也见不到他了，听不到他的声音了！”
她从怀里掏出孩子的一条镶着金银饰边的小腰带，刚看了一眼就哭得浑身哆嗦起来，她用手指捂着眼睛，泪水突然从指缝里像泉水一样涌出来。
“而这就是，”长老说，“这就是古代的拉结哭他的儿女，不肯受安慰，因为他们都不在了。你们这些当母亲的在世上的命运注定就是这样。你别安慰自己，你也不需要安慰自己，你别安慰自己，你尽管哭好了，但每次哭的时候都一定要想到你儿子现在成了上帝的一名天使，他从天国望着你，也能看到你，看到你的眼泪他很高兴，还把你的眼泪指给上帝看。伟大的慈母之泪你还要流很久，但这眼泪最后将使你转忧为喜，你那伤心的眼泪将成为暗自激动的眼泪，成为能够脱离罪恶、净化心灵的眼泪。我要为你的孩子祈祷安息，他叫什么名字？”
“阿列克谢，长老。”
“这名字真可爱。取自圣徒阿列克谢的名字吗？”
“是的，长老，是用了圣徒阿列克谢的名字！”
“他是个多好的圣徒！我一定为你的孩子祈祷，也要为你这当母亲的悲伤和你丈夫的健康祈祷，只不过你抛弃丈夫是一件罪孽，你要回到丈夫身边，精心照料他。如果你的孩子从天国看到你抛弃了他的父亲，他会为你们而伤心得哭起来的。你为何要破坏他的安宁呢？要知道他还活着，还活着，因为灵魂是永生的，尽管他不在家里，但他还在你们身边，只是看不见罢了。你说你恨自己的家，那他怎么能回家呢？如果他回家见到自己的父母不在一起，那他又去找谁呢？现在你经常梦见他，你心里感到痛苦，将来他会让你做各种美好的梦。回到你丈夫身边去吧，今天就回去。”
“我这就回去，亲爱的，我听你的话，我回去。你把我的心思琢磨透了。尼基图什卡，我的尼基图什卡啊，你等着我，亲爱的，你等着我吧！”女人说着哭了起来，但长老已经转过身跟另一位年迈的老妇人说话了。那老妇人的穿着打扮不像朝圣者，而像城里人。从她的目光中可以看出她有什么心事，她来是要诉说什么。她自称是士官的遗孀，住得也不远，就在我们城里。她的儿子瓦辛卡在政府部门当差，后来到西伯利亚的伊尔库茨克去了，他从那里来过两三封信，但最近快一年没有信来了。她曾经打听过他的消息，不过说实在的，她也不知道该上哪儿去打听才好。
“不过前几天斯捷潘尼达·伊里伊尼什娜·别特里亚金娜对我说，她是做买卖的，很有钱，她说，你把你儿子的名字写进追荐册，送到教堂里，祈祷他的灵魂安息。她说他的灵魂会想念你，这样，他就会给你写信。斯捷潘尼达·伊里伊尼什娜说，这肯定灵验，这办法试过多次了，每次都见效。不过我只是有点怀疑……亲爱的，这话是真是假？这样做好不好？”
“别信这一套，连提这样的问题也是可耻的。怎么能为一个活着的人做安息祈祷呢，况且这样做的又是他亲生母亲！这是极大的罪孽，就跟施妖术一样。但是因为你无知，尚可饶恕。你最好还是求救苦救难的圣母保佑你儿子健康，求她饶恕你的邪念。我还要告诉你，普罗霍罗芙娜：你儿子或者会很快回到你身边，或者一定会写信给你。你去吧，从今以后你就放心好了。我告诉你，你儿子还活着。”
“亲爱的，愿上帝赐福给你，你是我们的恩人，你替我们大家祈祷，饶恕我们的罪孽……”
长老已经注意到在人群中有一个神情疲惫、好像害痨病的年轻农妇，她那两道燃烧似的目光正盯着他。她一声不响地望着他，那眼神在请求着什么，但她又不敢走上前。
“你有什么事，亲爱的？”
“请你饶恕我的灵魂吧，亲爱的。”她不慌不忙地轻轻说道，跪下来向他磕头。
“我犯了罪，亲爱的长老，我害怕自己的罪孽。”
长老坐到最下面的一级台阶上，那女人跪着将身体挪到他身边。
“我守寡两年多了，”她悄悄地说，浑身像在发抖，“我出嫁以后日子难过，丈夫是个老头子，经常把我打得死去活来。后来他病倒了，躺在床上，我瞅着他那模样，心里想：要是他病好了，重新起床怎么办？当时我就生出了那个念头……”
“等一等，”长老说着把自己的耳朵凑到她嘴边，女人继续悄悄地说着，几乎什么也听不清。她一会儿就说完了。
“两年多了吗？”
“两年多了。起初不觉得什么，现在开始闹病了，心烦意乱。”
“你是远道来的吗？”
“离这儿一千里地。”
“忏悔的时候你说过没有？”
“说了，每次说两遍。”
“让你领过圣餐没有？”
“领过了，我害怕，我怕死。”
“什么也不用害怕，永远不用害怕，也不用发愁，只要你不断忏悔，上帝会饶恕一切的，只要你真正忏悔了，那么世上就没有也不可能有上帝无法饶恕的罪孽。一个人也不可能犯下那种连博大的上帝之爱都无法宽容的弥天大罪。难道有什么超出上帝之爱的罪孽吗？你只管不停地忏悔，根本用不着害怕。你要相信，上帝是爱你的，爱得出乎你的想象。尽管你犯了罪，罪孽在身，上帝还是爱你的。上帝对一个忏悔的人比对十个规规矩矩的人还喜欢，这是句老话。你去吧，不要害怕。不要迁怒于他人，受了委屈不要生气。你死去的丈夫侮辱过你，你心里要饶恕他，你要真心诚意地跟他和解。你忏悔了，就会有一颗仁爱的心。你有了爱心，你就是上帝的人了……爱能赎回一切，拯救一切。既然连我这样跟你同样有罪的人都能怜悯你，那上帝就更能怜悯你了。爱是无价之宝，你用爱可以赎回整个世界，不仅可以赎你的罪，还可以赎别人的罪。你去吧，别害怕。”
他为她画了三次十字，从自己脖子上摘下一枚小圣像，戴到她身上。她默默地向他磕了个头。他欠起身，高兴地看着另一个怀抱婴儿的健壮妇人。
“我是从维舍戈里耶来的，亲爱的。”
“离这儿十二里地，抱着孩子来去不容易啊。你有什么事吗？”
“我来看看你。我到你这儿来过几次，你不记得了？要是把我都给忘了，那你的记性真的不太好。我们村里的人说你病了，我心里就想：好吧，让我亲自去看看他吧。现在我见到了你，哪有什么病啊？你还能活二十年，真的，上帝保佑你！为你祈祷的人还会少吗？生病会轮得上你吗？”
“谢谢你的一片好心，亲爱的。”
“顺便我还有个小小的请求，这儿是六十戈比，亲爱的，你把这些钱送给比我还穷的人。我到这儿来的路上想：最好还是让他去给吧，他知道应该给谁。”
“谢谢，亲爱的，谢谢，好心的人。我爱你，我一定照办。你手里抱的孩子是个女孩吗？”
“是女孩，亲爱的，丽扎维塔。”
“愿上帝赐福予你们母女俩，赐福予你和你的丽扎维塔。你让我心里感到非常快活，亲爱的。再见了，亲爱的人们，再见了，可敬可爱的人们。”
他为所有的人祝福，向大家深深地鞠躬。
远道而来的地主太太看着长老与平民百姓谈话并为他们祝福的整个场面，禁不住默默流下了一串串眼泪，不时用手帕擦着。她是位多愁善感、真诚善良的上流社会的太太。当长老最后走到她身边的时候，她兴奋异常地迎上去说：
“看着这动人的场面，我真是百感交集……”她激动得说不下去了。“啊，我知道人民爱您，我自己也爱人民，我愿意爱他们，怎么能不爱人民呢，不爱我们优秀、淳朴、伟大的俄罗斯人民呢？”
“您女儿的身体怎么样？您还想跟我谈话吗？”
“啊，我坚决请求，我恳切请求，我愿意跪下来，我情愿在您面前哪怕跪三天，只要您放我进来。我们到您这儿来，是要向您这位包治百病的高手表示衷心的谢意。您治好了我的丽莎的病，完全治愈了。用什么办法治好的呢？就是星期四那天您为她做了祈祷，把您的手放在她头上。我们急着赶来吻您的双手，表达我们的感激和崇敬之情！”
“怎么能说治好了呢？她不是还躺在轮椅上吗？”
“可是夜间热病的症状完全消失了，从星期四到现在已经整整两天两夜没犯病了，”那太太神经质地匆忙说道，“不仅如此，她的两条腿也有力气了。今天早晨她起床的时候身体很好，她睡了一整夜，您看看她那红润的脸色，看看她那明亮的眼睛。以前老是哭个不停，现在却笑声不断，又快活又高兴。今天她硬是要求让她站一会儿，她居然独自站了足足一分钟，没有什么帮衬。她跟我打赌，说两星期后能跳'卡德里尔舞'。我请来了本地的赫尔岑斯图勃医生，他耸了耸肩说：我感到惊讶，感到不可思议。难道您不希望我们来打扰您，不希望我们急匆匆赶来感谢您吗？丽莎，你谢啊，道谢啊！”
丽莎那可爱的喜气洋洋的小脸蛋突然变得严肃起来，她尽量从轮椅上稍稍坐起来，眼睛望着长老，双手合在胸前，可忍不住又突然哈哈大笑起来……
“我这是笑他，笑他！”她指着阿廖沙说，她因为忍不住笑出了声在生自己的气。假如这时候有谁看一眼站在长老背后一步之遥的阿廖沙，那一定能发现他的脸一下子涨得通红通红，他的眼睛闪亮了一下又连忙低垂下来。
“阿列克谢·费奥多罗维奇，她有东西要交给您……您身体好吗？”丽莎的母亲突然转身问阿廖沙，并把自己保养得极好的手伸给他。长老回过头来，突然朝阿廖沙仔细看了一眼。阿廖沙走到丽莎跟前，脸上露出奇怪的微笑，也把自己的手伸给她。丽莎装出一本正经的样子。
“卡捷琳娜·伊凡诺芙娜托我把这交给您。”她递给他一封短柬。“她特别请您到她那儿去一次，越快越好，不要骗她，一定要去。”
“她请我去一次？让我到她那儿……为什么？”阿廖沙深为惊讶地说道，他的脸上突然露出疑惑的神情。
“啊，这全是因为德米特里·费奥多罗维奇以及最近发生的几件事情。”丽莎的母亲匆匆解释道。“卡捷琳娜·伊凡诺芙娜现在拿定了一个主意。为这件事她一定要见您……为什么？我当然不知道，可是她请您尽快去。您会这样做的，肯定会这样的，基督徒的感情也要求您这样做。”
“我总共才见过她一次。”阿廖沙还是困惑不解。
“啊，她是个多么崇高、多么完美的人！……即使单凭她受的那些苦难……您想想，她经受过多少苦难，她现在还在经受什么样的苦难，您想想她面临的困难……这一切真可怕！真可怕！”
“好的，我一定去。”阿廖沙匆匆浏览了那封神秘的短柬后说，短柬里除了坚决请他前去，没有任何解释。
“啊呀，您这样做是多么友好，多么高尚！”丽莎突然兴奋地大声喊道。“可我还对妈妈说，他是绝对不会去的，他正在修行呢。您真好，真好！我一直认为您是个大好人！我现在对您说这话，心里真高兴！”
“丽莎！”她妈妈严厉地喝住她，不过随即脸上又露出了笑容。
“您把我们都给忘了，阿列克谢·费奥多罗维奇，您根本就不想上我们家，可丽莎一再对我说，只有跟您在一起她才感到快活。”阿廖沙抬起低垂的眼睛，突然又脸红了，连他自己也不知道为什么，突然又笑了笑。不过，长老已经不再注意他。他在跟那位远道而来的修士说话，那位修士，我们上面已经说过，正站在丽莎的轮椅旁边等待着长老出来。很显然，他是那种最最一般的修士，也就是他地位卑微，眼界狭隘，思想偏执，但是他信仰坚定，意志顽强。他自称来自遥远的北方，来自奥勃多尔斯克的圣西里维斯特尔修道院——总共只有九名修士的穷修道院。长老为他祝福并邀请他方便的时候到他的修道室去。
“您怎么敢做这样的事情？”修士严肃地指着丽莎突然问道。他这是指长老为她“治病”的事。
“当然，说痊愈还为时尚早。减轻病情并不等于彻底治愈，而且这也可能是由于其他原因造成的。如果说有什么好转，那么除了上帝的旨意，谁也没有这个力量。一切都取决于上帝。请您来看望我，神甫。”临末他对修士说。“我不能随时接待客人：我经常生病，我知道自己的日子已经屈指可数了。”
“啊，不，不，上帝不会把您从我们身边夺走的，您还会活很久很久。”丽莎的母亲大声喊道。“再说您有什么病？您看上去是那么健康、快活、幸福。”
“今天我感到好多了，但我知道这是暂时的现象。我现在对自己的病知道得非常清楚，如果您觉得我非常快活，那么再也没有比您刚才说的话更加能使我高兴的了。因为人是为幸福而生的。谁真正幸福了，谁就有资格对自己说：'我在这世界上履行了上帝的预言！'所有恪守清规的人、所有圣者、所有神圣的殉道者都是幸福的。”
“啊，您说得多好，您的话是多么大胆、多么高尚！”丽莎的母亲喊道。“您的话说到我的心坎里去了。可是幸福，幸福，它又在哪儿呢？有谁可以说自己是幸福的？啊，既然您是那么善良，今天允许我们再次见您，那么我把上次没有说完、没有勇气说的话，把我长期以来感到痛苦的一切统统告诉您吧！我痛苦的是，请原谅，我痛苦的是……”她神情激动地合拢双手伸到他面前。
“什么事使您这么痛苦？”
“我的痛苦是没有信仰……”
“不信上帝？”
“啊，不，不，这是我连想也不敢想的，可是我觉得来世是个谜！谁也无法解开这个谜，没有人能解开！您听我说，您能医治百病，您洞察人们的心灵，我当然不敢希望您完全相信我，但是我可以向您郑重保证，我现在绝不是信口开河，关于来世的想法使我痛苦不安，甚至害怕和恐惧……我也不知道该去问谁，我一辈子都不敢……现在我鼓起勇气来问您……天哪，您现在会把我当成什么人啊！”她激动地双手一拍。
“您不用担心我会怎么看，”长老回答说，“我完全相信您的烦恼是真诚的。”
“啊，我该怎样感谢您啊！您看，我闭上眼睛在心里想：如果大家都有信仰，那么这信仰是怎么产生的呢？人们说，这一切起初来自对可怖的自然现象的恐惧，实际上这一切都是不存在的。我想，我相信了一辈子，可是我一旦死去，一切都马上不存在了，'坟墓上只会长出牛蒡草'，就像一位作家说的那样。这真可怕！用什么办法，怎样才能恢复信仰呢？不过，我也只是小时候才相信，机械的，没有动过脑子……用什么，究竟是用什么来证明这一点呢？我现在就是来向您请教这个问题的。如果我错过了眼前这个机会，那么这一辈子就没有人能回答我的问题了。用什么来证明？怎么能使我相信？唉，我真不幸！我发现周围的人，几乎所有的人都觉得无所谓，现在谁也不去考虑这件事，只有我一个人无法忍受。这太可怕了，太可怕了！”
“毫无疑问，这很可怕。可这是无法证明的，只能相信。”
“怎样才能相信？根据什么可以相信？”
“就靠化为实际行动的爱的经验。您要尽量爱您亲近的人，这爱要付诸行动，要坚持不懈。您在爱的方面做出的成绩越大，您就会越来越坚信上帝的存在，相信您灵魂的永生。如果您对亲近的人爱到可以作出自我牺牲的地步，那么您肯定会得到坚定的信仰，任何怀疑都不会侵蚀您的灵魂。这是最可靠也是最正确的办法。”
“付诸实际行动的爱？这又产生了一个问题，而且是个很重要的问题！您看：我很爱人类，您相信吗，有时候我幻想着要抛弃一切，甚至所有的一切，离开丽莎，去当护士。我闭上眼睛，心里在想，在幻想，这时候我感到自己身上有一股不可战胜的力量。任何创伤，任何脓疮都不会使我害怕。我会亲手去包扎，去清洗，我可以看护那些痛苦不堪的病人，我准备亲吻这些疮疤……”
“您能这样考虑，而不想别的，这已经很好，很不容易了。有时候您真的会不知不觉地做一件好事。”
“是的，可我怎么能长久地忍受这样的生活呢？”这位太太激烈到近于疯狂地继续说道。“这才是最主要的问题！这是最折磨人的问题。我闭上眼睛问自己：你在这条路上能长期坚持下去吗？假如有一位病人，我为他清洗伤口，他非但不知恩图报，反而用种种任性的言行来折磨你，对你充满爱心的服侍不加珍惜，不予重视，冲着你大喊大叫，提出粗鲁的要求，甚至向上司告你的状（这种情况在痛苦难耐的病人身上是经常发生的），那时候你怎么办？你的爱能不能继续下去？您看我已经胆战心惊地预料到：如果说有什么东西能使我对人类这种'付诸实际行动'的爱立即冷却下去的话，那便是忘恩负义。一句话，我做了事情是要求报答的，我要求马上得到报答，也就是要夸奖我，用爱来报答我的爱，否则我不可能爱任何人！”
她处在最真诚的自我鞭策的激情中，说完便带着挑衅般的坚决神情看了看长老。
“有一位医生跟我说过完全一模一样的话，只不过那是很久以前的事了。”长老说，“他已经上了年纪，无疑是个聪明人。他像您一样说得十分坦率，尽管带有玩笑的性质，但那是一种伤心的玩笑。他说，我爱人类，但自己觉得奇怪的是我对整个人类爱得越深，却对个别人，也就是一个个单独的人，爱得越少。他说，我往往在头脑中幻想着要热情地为人类服务，为了他们也许真的愿意走上十字架，假如突然需要这样做的话。但是经