Ivan pondered on all this as Evila passed him; he wondered also why her lover was not with her, for this was an established custom in Bondavara. Peter, however, evidently did not mind these rules of courtship; he was lounging on one of the benches outside the gates of the ventilation-oven, close to the pitmouth, his head in the air, his chin in his hand.
Ivan went to him. "Good-morning, Peter. What are you doing there, my man?"
"I am listening to the wind that is coming from below."
"Why don't you go to church?"
"Because I never pray at all."
"And why not?"
"I do nobody any harm. I neither rob nor murder, and if there is a God, He knows better than I do what is good for me."
"You are quite wrong there, Peter. In these matters there is an immense difference between educated people and what are called the children of Nature. I have my science and thought to fall back on—my intellect is my guide, and preserves me from temptation; but with you, and men like you, it is otherwise. Those who have no other knowledge but what concerns their daily labor have need of faith, of hope, of consolation, and of forgiveness." As he spoke, Ivan seated himself beside the other and laid his hand upon his shoulder. "Something is on your mind, Peter?"
Peter nodded. "There is something."
"Does it weigh on your soul?"