And she answered: "I do no harm to people. What am I guilty of? And whom can it hurt that I lead an unclean life? Only myself."
I felt that she wished to say something good and true, but I could not understand her.
"I alone am responsible for my sins," she said, bowing to me and her whole face lighting up in a smile. "Besides, my sins do not appear so great. Perhaps what I am saying is not quite right, but I am speaking the truth. I go to church gladly. Our church has just been built, and it is so bright and sweet. And how our choir sings! Sometimes they touch the heart, so that I must weep. In the church the soul gets a rest from all worries."
She remained silent for some time, and then added:
"Of course, there are other reasons. The men see you there."
I was so astounded by what she said that she told me I had drops of sweat standing on my temples. I could not understand how all these things came together in her so simply and harmoniously.
"Did you love your wife very much?" she asked me.
"Yes, very much," I answered, and her naïveté? pleased me more and more.
I began to tell her of my spiritual state, of my wrath against God, because he did not hold me back from sins and then unjustly punished me by the death of Olga. She became now pale and depressed, now red all over with eyes on fire, so that she excited me. For the first time in my life I let my thoughts sweep over the whole circle of human life as I saw it, and it appeared to me as something incoherent and wasteful, shameful in its evil and helplessness, its groaning and moaning and wailing.
"Where are the Godlike?" I asked. "People sit on each other's backs, suck each other's blood, and everywhere there is the brutal struggle for a piece of bread. Where is there room for the Godlike? Where is there room for goodness and love, strength and beauty? Although I am young, I was not born blind. Who is Christ, the God-child? Who has trampled the flowers which His pure heart has sown? Who has stolen the wisdom of His love?"