“You have invented this faith yourself,” he said. “It has nothing in common with Christianity. You Russians are all revolutionaries. Your priests do not teach you the principal thing, the love and fear of God and of His divine wisdom and might. Your attitude towards God is quite unceremonious. You make conditions and contracts with Him as if He were a simple mortal. You have not advanced far beyond the ideas of your fellow-countrymen the Samoyedes, who first make sacrifices to their wooden gods and then beat them if they do not grant their prayers. When you Russians think you are passing from Orthodoxy to Catholicism, you are actually passing from paganism to Christianity.”
“And where did you get the notion,” he asked on another occasion, “that Christ promised His followers happiness in this life? On the contrary, Christ said repeatedly, ‘My kingdom is not of this world.’ And, indeed, how could He reign here, among the pitiful creatures who people this earth, worms that strive only for empty, worldly pleasures, and cannot raise their eyes to the stars? Were He to appear anew among them, with His mild humility and saintliness, would the vulgar mind understand Him? No; our present-day Christians would laugh Him to scorn, and though they would not, perhaps, lead Him to Golgotha, they would certainly turn away with a mocking smile. The kingdom of Christ is indeed beyond the grave, in another and more perfect world, to be attained only by purified souls who, already during their lifetime, have renounced earthly joys, and, by means of meditation, fasting, and prayer, have conquered the body, and their lower natures. Great joy and happiness awaits them in Heaven, and it is thither, my daughter, that your hopes must be directed. It is in the Kingdom of the Future that you must expect justice, and not in this vain world, from which but few will succeed in saving their souls.”
The priest spoke with enthusiasm. His face shone with the light of inspiration. It was as though his eyes already saw the bliss of Christ’s kingdom and those Heavenly joys of which he was so firmly convinced.
His words made a great impression on Irene. Until that time, she had never thought much about the future life. “Why trouble oneself,” her common sense had argued, “about something that no one has ever seen? What must be, will be, and premature curiosity is useless.”
Now, however, hearing these burning words of Père Etienne, she involuntarily thought to herself: “Is it possible that he really believes what he says?” And at the same time, she felt that the inspired enthusiasm of the kind old priest was beginning to influence her. Like most people of our day, Irene was interested in hypnotism, and it had not infrequently, in moments of despair, occurred to her to apply for help to some famous hypnotist. She had been restrained only through fear of the consequences that might accrue from putting herself under the power of a perfect stranger. Supposing, having cured her of her gloomy state of mind, he should turn her into a criminal, and make her steal or murder?
Now, however, looking into the noble face of the old priest, Irene understood and felt that he could lead her along the right path. Oh! if he could succeed in giving her back her former faith! He had convinced other poor girls. And what happiness shone from their pale faces!
Irene caught at Père Etienne as a drowning man at a straw. It is thus that a man suffering from an incurable disease flies to some quack or self-styled magician, gazes excitedly at mysterious herbs, and is already half assured that in them, and only in them, lies salvation. As for Père Etienne, the kind-hearted old man enthusiastically and zealously threw himself into the work of saving Irene’s soul, and arranging her life.
“You are deeply mistaken,” he assured her, “when you think that you have lost time uselessly, and have lived your life in vain. On the contrary, you have achieved much. You have passed through all your troubles with a pure heart. You have not made compromises with your conscience. You have looked on sadly while goodness and justice suffered, and sin was loaded with honours; but the idea has never occurred to you—as it does, alas! to many—that if sin is so successful, why not join its followers? You have resisted the temptation of such a thought. Your soul was dearer to you than the glitter of worldly success. You struggled with wicked thoughts, and emerged victoriously from the struggle. This is a great happiness, my daughter. Thank God for giving you a strong will and a pure heart. It is a sign that you are one of His chosen ones. But you must not stop half-way. Throw off that spirit of despair! Forget all earthly cares! Draw yourself apart from the world and its ways, and consecrate yourself to God. It is necessary for you, without losing more time, to enter a convent.”
“A convent?” exclaimed Irene.