Three days later, Sasha, my little son, died. He had mistaken arsenic for sugar, and eaten it.
His death made no impression on me. I had become cold and indifferent to everything.
[CHAPTER VII]
I decided to go to a town, where an arch-bishop lived—a pious, learned man, who disputed continually with the Old Believers about the true faith and was renowned for his wisdom. I told my father-in-law that I was going away and that he could have my house and all that I possessed for a hundred rubles.
"No," he answered, "that is not the way to do business. You must sign me a note for half a year for three hundred rubles."
I signed it, ordered my passport and began my trip. I walked on foot, for I thought that thus the confusion in my soul would subside. But although I walked to do penance, still my thoughts were not with God. I was afraid and angry with myself. My thoughts were distorted and they fell apart like worn-out cloth. The sky was dark above me.
With great difficulty I reached the Archbishop. A servant, a pretty, delicate youngster, who received the visitors, would not let me enter. Four times he sent me back, saying:
"I am the secretary. You must give me three rubles."
"I won't give you a three-kopeck piece," I said.