"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.