Chapter 125 Part Three - Twenty One

Nekhludoff was standing by the side of the ferry, looking at the wide and swift water.Two images alternated in his mind: one was that of the dying Kryltzoff.His face was full of anger, his head was shaken by the cart; one was Katyusha, who was walking along the side of the road with Simonsson in high spirits.One image weighed him down and saddened him, that of Kryltzov who was on the verge of death and did not want to die.Another image is Katyusha, who is full of life. She is loved by such a good person as Simonson, and she has embarked on a stable and good path. This is a happy event, but Nekhludoff feels uncomfortable and cannot overcome this. a feeling of.

The big bronze bell of the church in the city rang, and the trembling bells rippled on the water.The coachman and all the drivers standing beside Nekhludoff took off their hats and crossed themselves.Only a short, shaggy-haired old man by the railing did not cross himself, but raised his head and stared directly at Nekhludoff, who at first did not notice him.The old man wore a patched jacket, dungarees, and patched boots.He carried a small bag on his shoulders and wore a broken leather cap on his head. "Old man, why don't you say your prayers?" asked Nekhludoff's coachman, putting on his hat and straightening himself up. "Aren't you a Christian?"

"Who am I to pray to?" the shaggy-haired old man snapped back.He spoke quickly, but every word was clear. "To God, of course," said the coachman sarcastically. "Then show me where he is? Where is God?" The old man's expression was so serious and resolute that the coachman felt that he was dealing with a strong man, and he was a little flustered, but he kept his face on the surface, trying not to let the old man's words stop his mouth, and to lose face in front of so many people, so he just Hastily replied: "Where? In the sky, of course."

"Then have you been there?" "Whether you have been there or not, everyone knows that they should pray to God." "No one has ever seen God anywhere. That's proclaimed by the only begotten Son who lives in God's heart," said the old man hastily, frowning viciously. "It looks like you're not a Christian, you're a cave cultist. Just pray to the cave," said the coachman, slipping the whip handle into his waist and straightening the horse's holster. Someone laughed. "Well, what do you believe, my lord?" asked an elderly man standing beside the cart beside the boat.

"I don't believe in anything. I don't believe in anyone, I don't believe in anyone but myself," The old man answered quickly and decisively. "How can a man trust himself?" Nekhludoff interrupted. "It would be the wrong thing to do." "I've never done anything wrong in my life," the old man answered decisively, tossing his head. "How can there be religions in the world?" asked Nekhludoff. "There are all kinds of religions in the world because people believe in others and not in themselves. I have believed in people before, but I lost my way like walking into a virgin forest. I was completely lost and could no longer find my way out. Someone Some believe in the old religion, some believe in the Protestantism, some believe in the Adventist Church, some believe in the whip and example, some believe in the Church, some believe in the non-Church, some believe in the Austrian, some believe in the Morrokanism, and some believe in the Castration. All kinds of sects boast Good for yourself. In fact, they are all like blind puppies, crawling on the ground. There are many beliefs, but only one soul. You have it, I have it, and he has it. As long as everyone believes in their own soul, they can help each other. As long as everyone keeps If you are true to yourself, you can work together.”

The old man spoke very loudly, and kept looking around, obviously hoping that more people would listen to him. "Oh, how long have you been preaching like this?" Nekhludoff asked him. "Me? It's been a long time. I've been persecuted for twenty-three years." "What kind of persecution law?" "They persecuted me just as they persecuted Christ. They took me to court, to priests, to scholars, to Pharisees. And they sent me to madhouses. But they took I can't help it because I'm a free man. They ask me: 'What's your name?' They think I'll give myself a name, but I don't want any name. I give up everything, I have no name, no residence , no country, nothing. I am what I am. What's my name? My name is Man. People ask me: 'How old are you?' I say I never count, and I can't count, because I was, am, and will always be Existence. People asked me: "Then who are your parents?" I said, I have no parents, only God and the earth. God is my father, and the earth is my mother. People asked me: "Do you recognize the emperor?" I Why not. He's his own emperor, I'm my own emperor. They said, 'I can't talk to you.' I said, I didn't ask you to talk to me. That's how they torture people."

"And where are you going now?" asked Nekhludoff. "It's fate. I'll work if there's work, and I'll eat if there's no work," concluded the old man, with a triumphant glance at all who were listening, when he saw the ferry was approaching. The ferry stopped on the opposite bank.Nekhludoff took out his wallet and gave the old man some money.The old man refused. "I don't take that. I take the bread," he said. "Oh, sorry." "There's nothing to be sorry about. You haven't offended me. In fact, you can't offend me," said the old man, and began to carry the bag he had put down on his shoulder.By this time Nekhludoff's stage-coach had been harnessed to the horses and landed.

"My lord, you still have the appetite to talk to him," said the coachman, after Nekhludoff had paid the able-bodied boatman for his drink, and got into the carriage. "Hmph, this tramp is not decent."