Collected Shorter Fiction, Volume 2

Tired out from his regular session of receiving visitors, the elder nonetheless agreed to see Liza and gently counselled her to behave with moderation and to submit to the existing circumstances of her life, and to her parents. Liza said nothing, merely blushed and perspired, but when he had finished she began to speak meekly, with tears in her eyes, about the words of Christ who had said ‘Leave thy father and thy mother, and follow me’; then, becoming more and more animated, she began to explain to him her whole conception of what Christianity really meant. At first the elder smiled slightly and brought out some conventional points of teaching, but then he fell silent and began to sigh, repeating to himself ‘O Lord, O Lord’.

‘Very well then, come to me tomorrow and make your confession,’ he said, blessing her with his wrinkled hand.

The next day he heard her confession, and without continuing their conversation of the previous day, sent her away, having briefly refused to take upon himself the disposal of her property.

This young woman’s purity, her utter devotion to the will of God, her fervour, impressed the elder deeply. He had long wanted to renounce the world, but the monastery needed his activities, which were a source of income for the community. And he had accepted this, although he was vaguely aware of the falsity of his position. People were turning him into a saint, a miracle-worker, but in reality he was a weak man carried along by the current of his own success. And the soul of this young woman which had just been opened to him had revealed to him the truth about his own soul. And he had seen just how far he was from what he wanted to be and from the goal towards which his heart was drawing him.

Soon after Liza’s visit he withdrew to his cell, and it was only after three weeks had gone by that he emerged again into the church to conduct a service; and after the service he preached a sermon in which he reproached himself and denounced the wickedness of the world and called it to repentance.

He took to delivering a sermon every two weeks. And more and more people came to hear these sermons. And his fame as a preacher spread further and further. There was something special, bold and sincere in his sermons. And this was why he had such a powerful effect upon other people.

XIII

Meanwhile Vasily had been carrying out his plans as he had intended. One night he and some companions got into the house of a rich man named Krasnopuzov. He knew that Krasnopuzov was a miser and a man of depraved character, and he broke into his writing-desk and stole thirty thousand roubles in cash. And Vasily did with it as he pleased. He actually stopped drinking, and gave money to poor girls so that they could get married. He financed weddings, paid off people’s debts, and lay low himself. His only concern was how best to distribute the money. He even gave some to the police. And they stopped looking for him.

His heart rejoiced. And when eventually despite everything he was arrested, he laughed and boasted at his trial, saying that when it was in paunchy old Krasnopuzov’s possession the money had never done any good, in fact the owner didn’t know how much he’d got, ‘Whereas I put the stuff into circulation and helped good folk with it’.

And his defence was so cheerful and good-hearted that the jury almost acquitted him. He was sentenced to be exiled.

He thanked the court and gave advance warning that he intended to escape.

XIV

The telegram which Sventitsky’s widow sent to the Tsar produced no effect whatever. The committee which dealt with petitions decided initially that they would not even report it to the Tsar, but then one day when the Tsar was at luncheon and the conversation turned to the Sventitsky case, the chairman of the petitions committee who was at table with the sovereign informed him about the telegram they had received from the wife of the murdered man.

‘C’est très gentil de sa part,’¹¹ remarked one of the ladies of the Imperial family.

The Tsar merely sighed, shrugged his shoulders beneath their epaulettes and said ‘The law is the law.’ And he held up his glass, into which a chamber-footman poured some sparkling Moselle. Everyone tried to look as though they were impressed by the wisdom of the sovereign’s remark. And nothing further was said about the telegram. And the two peasants – the old man and the young man – were hanged with the assistance of a Tatar executioner, a cruel and bestial murderer who had been summoned from Kazan especially for the purpose.

The old man’s wife wanted to dress her husband’s body in a white shirt, white foot-cloths and new shoes, but she was not allowed to do so and both men were buried in a single grave outside the fence of the cemetery.

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