"It is silent."
Lunev smiled.
"Prayer, if it comes from a clean heart, always brings relief," said the hunchback, softly but emphatically.
Ilya got up and went to the window. Wide streams of dirty water flowed down the gutters; little pools were formed between the stones of the pavement; they trembled under the descending shower, so that it looked as though all the pavement quivered. The house over the way was quite wet and gloomy, its window-panes were dim and the flowers behind them invisible. The streets were deserted and quiet; only the rain hissed and all the little gutters splashed along. A solitary pigeon was sheltering under the eaves by the gable-window, and a damp, heavy dreariness invaded the town from all sides.
"Autumn is here!" The thought shot through Lunev's brain.
"How else can a man set himself right with God except through prayer?" asked Terenti, as he began to open one of his bags.
"It's very simple," remarked Ilya gloomily, without turning round. "You sin as you please; then you pray hard, and it's all right! All settled, begin again, sin some more!"
"But why? On the contrary, live honestly!"
"Why?"
"How d'you mean?"