And Alexei threw me out on the street with great vigor.
It was evening. I had spent fully two hours talking with the old archbishop. The streets were in semi-darkness, and the picture was not joyful. Everywhere there were noisy crowds, talk and laughter. It was holiday time, the feast of the Three Wise Men. Weakly I walked along and looked into the faces of the people. They angered me and I felt like shouting out to them:
"Hey, you people, what are you so satisfied about? They are murdering your God. Take care!"
I walked along in my misery as one drunk, and did not know where I was going. I did not want to go to my inn, for there there was noise and drinking. I went out into the farthest suburb. Little houses stood there, whose yellow windows looked out upon the fields, and the winds played with the snow about them, and whistled and covered them up.
I wanted to drink—to get very drunk; but alone, without people. I was a stranger to all and was guilty before all. "I will cross this field," I thought, "and see where it leads to."
Suddenly a woman came out of a gate, dressed in a light dress and with a shawl as her only protection against the cold. She looked into my face and asked:
"What is your name?"
I understood that she was guessing her future husband.
"I will not tell you my name. I am an unhappy man."
"Unhappy?" she asked, laughing. "Now, in the holiday season?"