“Yes, I was there, but left in disgust,” said Nekhludoff angrily, vexed that Selenin had changed the subject.
“Why with disgust? After all, it is a manifestation of religious feeling, though one-sided and sectarian,” said Selenin.
“Why, it’s only some kind of whimsical folly.”
“Oh, dear, no. The curious thing is that we know the teaching of our church so little that we see some new kind of revelation in what are, after all, our own fundamental dogmas,” said Selenin, as if hurrying to let his old friend know his new views.
Nekhludoff looked at Selenin scrutinisingly and with surprise, and Selenin dropped his eyes, in which appeared an expression not only of sadness but also of ill-will.
“Do you, then, believe in the dogmas of the church?” Nekhludoff asked.
“Of course I do,” replied Selenin, gazing straight into Nekhludoff’s eyes with a lifeless look.
Nekhludoff sighed. “It is strange,” he said.
“However, we shall have a talk some other time,” said Selenin. “I am coming,” he added, in answer to the usher, who had respectfully approached him. “Yes, we must meet again,” he went on with a sigh. “But will it be possible for me to find you? You will always find me in at seven o’clock. My address is Nadejdinskaya,” and he gave the number. “Ah, time does not stand still,” and he turned to go, smiling only with his lips.
“I will come if I can,” said Nekhludoff, feeling that a man once near and dear to him had, by this brief conversation, suddenly become strange, distant, and incomprehensible, if not hostile to him.