THE SUNDAY OREGONIAN, PORTLAND, MAY--" '-6,' 1906.
THE DIVINE AND THE HUMAN, OR THREE MORE DEATHS
33
BY LEO . TOLSTOI.
TTnlated by V. Tchertkoff and E. A.)
I.
IT WAS In the seventies In Russia, dur
ing the climax of the struggle between
the revolutionists and the government.
The Governor-General of the Southern
Provinces, a big German with drooping
mustaches, a hard look and an inexpres
sive face, wearing a military tunic with
a white cross (the Order of Bt. George)
round his neck, waa sitting. In the even
ing, at his study table, lighted with four
candles with green shades, reading and
signing papers which had been left by his
secretary. "General Aide de Camp" so
and so, he kept writing with a long flour
ish as he laid aside one paper after an
ot her.
Among the documents was a death war
rant for the hanging of the graduate of
the NovOrossluk University, Anatole Svet
. logoub, for being concerned in a plot
against the existing government. The
general, frowning significantly, signed this
also. With his white, delicate hands,
wrinkled with age and washing, he neatly
adjusted the edges of the papers and
placed them aside.
The following paper concerned the pay
ing of accounts for the removal of pro
visions for the troops. He was attentively
reading this paper, asking himself whether
the sums had been reckoned correctly or
not, when he suddenly recalled to mind a
conversation with his assistant about the
case of Svetlogoub. The General was of
opinion that the dynamite found in Svet
logoub's possession did not yet prove his
criminal Intention. The assistant, on the
other hand, insisted on the fact that be
sides the dynamite there was much evi
dence proving that Svetlogoub was the
head of a band. And having recalled this,
the General began to think, and under
his padded tunic, with facings down the
front as hard as cardboard, his heart be
gan to beat irregularly, and he breathed
so heavily that the big white cross, object
of his Joy and pride, moved on his breast.
It is not too late to recall the Secretary
and the warrant can be, if not cancelled,
at least postponed.
"Shall I recall him or shall I not?"
His heart beat yet more irregularly. He
rang the bell. The attendant entered with
quirk, noiseless steps.
"Has Ivan Matveyevlch gone yet?"
"No, your Excellency, he is In the of
fice." The General's heart kept alternately
stopping and giving quick jerks. He re
membered the warning of the doctor who
had a few days previously examined his
heart.
"Above all," said the doctor, "as soon
as you feel that you have a heart, cease
your work and distract yourself. Emo
tion of any kind is bad for you. Do not
permit it under any consideration."
"May I be allowed to call him?"
"No, It Is not necessary," said the Gen
eral. "Yes," said he to himself, "Inde
cision agitates one more than anything. It
Is signed and there's An end of It. 'Ein
Jedor macht sich sein Bett und muss
d'rauf schlafen,' " he repeated to himself,
his favorite proverb. "Besides, It does
not concern me. I am the agent of a
higher will and should be above all such
considerations," he added, contracting
his brows In order to call forth In himself
that hardness which was not present In
his heart.
And here he remembered his last inter
view with the Emperor; how the Emperor,
assuming a severe expression and direct
ing his glassy look at him, said: "I rely
on you. As you have not spared yourself
In war. you will act with equal deter
mination in the struggle with the radi
cals; you will not allow yourself to be
cither deceived or intimidated. Goodby."
And the Emperor embraced him. present
ing his shoulder to be kissed. The Gen
eral recalled this and how he had an
swered the Emperor: "My one desire is
to surrender my life for the service of my
sovereign and my country."
And remembering the feeling of servile
unction which he had then experienced In
the consciousness of self-sacrificing devo
tion to his sovereign, he dispelled from
his mind the thought which had for a mo
ment upset him. signed the remaining pa
pers and again rang the bell.
"Is the tea served?" he asked.
"It will be served directlv. your Excel
lency." "Very well, you can go."
The General gave a deep sigh and run
ning the place' where his heart was. wen
with heavy steps out into the big empty
hall and along its freshly polished par
quet floor Into the drawing room, whence
voices could be heard.
.Jrh acnpral's wife had visitors
the Governor, with hs wife and an
unmarried princess a ereat patriot;
also an officer of the Guards engaged
ter last unmarrled daugh-
The General's wife, a slight woman
with thin Hps and a cola expression
on her face, was seated at a little low
tuble on which was placed the tea
service with a silver kettle on a spirit
lamp. With an affectedly sad voice
site was telling the Governor's wife
a stout lady dressed to look voung!
about her anxiety for her husbands
health.
Every day fresh and new ' reports
disclosed plots nnd ail kinds of dread
ful things, . . . an(j nlI thls falls
on Basil; he has to settle everything.
"Oh, don't speak about It," said the
princess. "Jb devious feroce quand Je
pense a cette maudite cngeance."
"Yes, yes, it is dreadful. Wouid you
believe It, he works twelve hours a
day, and with this weak heart I am
actually afraid that ."
Seeing her husband enter, she did
not finish. "Tcs. you must certalnly
go to hoar him. Barblnl is a wonder
ful tenor," she aald, smiling pleasant
ly at the Governors wife, speaking
of a newly arrived singer as naturally
aa if they had only Just been talking
Hb.iut bim.
The General's daughter, a good
looking, strongly-built girl, was sit
ting with her fiance Jn the far corner
of the drawing-room behind a Chi
nese screen. They got up and ap
proached her father.
"Dear me we've not even seen each
other yet today." said the General,
kissing his daughter and shaking
hands with the young man.
Having greeted the guests, the Gen
eral seated himself at the little table
and entered Into conversation with the
Governor about the latest news.
"No, no. don't talk business; it is
forbidden," said the, General's wife,
interrupting what the Governor was
saying. "Ah! here comes Kopyef he
will tell us something funny."
"Good evening. Kopyef."
And Kopyef. noted for his wit and
humor, did indeed relate the latest
anecdote, which made everyone laugh.
I become furious when I thtnk of this ac
cursed t.
II.
"But no, this cannot be, it cannot,
it cannot! Let me go!"
Svetlogoub'a mother was shrieking,
endeavoring to tear herself out of the
hands of a schoolmaster, her son's
companion, and a doctor, who were
trying to hold her.
Svetlogoub's mother was an agree
able looking woman, not old, with
curls turning gray and stars of
wrinkles around her eyes. The teach
er, Svetlogoub's friend, having learned
that the death warrant waa signed,
wished to prepare her for the dread
ful news, iHit the moment he began
10 speak about her son sho, by the
tone of his voice and by the timidity
of his look, guessed that what she
feared had happened.
This was taking place in a small
room in the best hotel of the town.
"Why are you holding me? Let me
go!" she cried, struggling to free her
self from the doctor, an old friend of
the family, who was with one hand
holding her by her thin elbow and
with the other placing a small phial
of drops upon an oval table in front
of the couch. She was glad that they
were holding her, for she felt that she
must do something, yet did not know
what, and was afraid of herself.
"t)o compose yourself. Here, take
some valerian drops," said the doctor,
offering her some cloudy liquid in a
wine glass.
She suddenly became silent and al
most doubled herself up. bending her
head down on to her fiat breast, and,
closing her eyes, she sank on the sofa.
And she recalled how her son, three
months ago, took leave of her with a
sad, mysterious face. Then she saw
him as a boy of eight, in a velvet
jacket with little bare legs and long,
wavy curls of light hair.
"And it is with him, with him, this
very boy . .. . that they will do it."
She started up, pushed the table aside
and tore herself away from the doctor,
but on reaching the door she again
sank into an armchair.
"And they say there is a God! What
God is it. if he permits this? The
devil take him. this God!" she
screamed, alternately sobbing and
shrieking with hysterical laughter.
"They will hang, they will hang the
one who has sacrificed everything, all
his career; who devoted all his for
tune to others, to the people; who gave
away everything," she said, although
she had previously always rebuked
her Bon for that which she was now
admiring as his merit and Belf-saorl-flce.
"And they will do it with him,
with him! And you say there is a
God!" she cried.
"But, I don't say anything; I only beg
you to take these drops."
"I don't want anything. Ha, ha, ha!"
she shrieked and sobbed, giving herself
up to her despair.
Toward the nlgfft she was bo exhausted
that she could no longer either speak or
cry, and merely eased into space with a
fixed, wild expression. The doctor gave
her an injection of morphia and she fell
asleep.
The sleep was dreamless, but the return
to consciousness Was even -worse than
before. The most dreadful thing was
that people could be so cruel, not only
these awful Generals, with their clean
shaven faces, and these gendarmes, but
every one, every one the chambermaid,
with her quiet face, who came to do the
room, and the neighbors in the next
room, who cheerfully greeted each other
and laughed as If nothing had happened.
JII.
Svetlogoub had been in solitary confine
ment for more than a month, and during
that time he went through much inner
development.
Prom childhood Svetlogoub had uncon
sciously felt the wrong of his privileged
position as a wealthy man, and although
he tried to stifle this feeling, yet when
he noticed the destitution of the pertple
and sometimes when he himself simply
felt quite happy and Joyous and oompflred
his position with that of the peasants,
old people, women and children, he felt
ashamed. They were. born, grew up and
died, not only devoid of all those pleas
ures which he had Without appreciation,
but were never free from unremitting toil
and want. Having finished at the uni
versity, he, in order to free himself from
this sense of wrongdoing, organised on
his estate a model school, co-operative
stores and a home for the destitute and
aged. But strange to say, while engaged
with these things he felt still more
ashamed with regard to the people than
when he had formerly revelled with his
friends in town or spent money on ex
pensive riding horses. He felt that all
this waa not the right thing, and worse
still, that there was something 3ad,
something morally repugnant in it.
At one of these periods of disillusion
ment he went to Kief and there met one
of his most intimate university friends.
This man three years later was executed
in the moat of the Kief fortress.
He was an impulsive, enthusiastic man
of great ability, and persuaded Svetlo
goub to Join a society for -the purpose
of enlightening the people, instilling in
them a sense of their rights and or
ganizing them into collective groups, with
the intention of freeing them from the
power of the landowners and the govern
ment. Intercourse with this man and
his friends served to bring to a definite
point that which Svetlogoub had hitherto
but vaguely realized. HO now understood
what he had to do. He returned to the
country and there, while maintaining his
connection with these new friends, be
gan quite a new departure. He became a
schoolmaster, organised adult classes,
read to them books and pamphlets and
explained to the peasants their position.
Besides this he published prohibited liter
ature and devoted out of his income all
he could spare, without depriving his
mother of anything, to the organization
of similar centers in other villages. ,
At the outset of this new activity
Svetlogoub encountered two unexpected
obstacles. One of them was that the
majority of the people were not only in
different to his propaganda, but treated
him almost contemptuously (only in rare
cases did individuals understand and
sympathize with him, and often indi
viduals of doubtful character); the other
obstacle came from the government. His
school was proscribed, and police raids
took place at his and his friends' houses
and his books and papers were confis
cated. -
Svetlogoub did not pay much attention
to the first obstacle the Indifference of
the people being too revolted by the
second one, the persecutions of the gov
ernment, senseless and Insulting as they
were. This same was experienced by his
ernnrades in their activities in other lo
calities and the feeling of resentment
against the government, being mutually
encouraged, reached such a degree that
the majority of the group decided upon
active strife with the government.
The head of this group was a certain
Jlejenetsky. regarded by every one as a
man of unflinching will and invincible
logic, who was entirely devoted to the
cause of the revolution.
Svetlogoub submitted himself to the in
fluence of this leader and gave himself
up to terroristic propaganda with the
same energy with which he had previous
ly worked among the peasants.
This activity was dangerous, but it was
precisely the danger which attracted
Svetlogoub.
He said to himself: "Either victory or
martvrdom, and if even martyrdom that
will also be victory for the cause in the
future." And the fire which had kindled
In him, far from going out during the
seven years of his revolutionary period,
kept growing in intensity, encouraged by
the love and regard of those among
whom he moved.
He attached no importance to the fact
that he had surrendered almost all his for
tune the part he had inherited from his
father to this came, neither did he to
the labors and the want which he had
often to undergo In his work. One thing
only pained him. It was the grief he
cansed by this activity to his mother and
the young lady, her ward, who lived with
his mother and who loved him.
Latterly a fellow terrorist whom he did
not much like, an unpiieaaant man, being
worried by the police, asked him to hide
come dynamite In his rooms. Svetlogoub
consented, all the more unhesitatingly for
the very reason that he did not like this
comrade, and on the following day a po
lice descent was made on his rooms and
the dynamite discovered. To all the ques
tions as to how and from where he had
procured It Svetlogoub made no answer.
And thus the martyrdom he expected
had begun. For some time past when so
many of his friends had been executed,
incarcerated and exiled, when so many
women had suffered, Svetlogoub almost
desired martyrdom for himself, and dur
ing the first period of his arrest and ex
amination he felt a great elation. Indeed,
almost joy.
This feeling remained with him when
he waa stripped, searched and brought
into his cell and when the Iron door was
locked upon him. But when there passed
a day, another, a third, a whole week,
another and again another week spent In
the dirty, damp cell, filled with vermin, in
enforced idleness and solitude, broken only
by communications through knocks with
fellow prisoners in neighboring cells, who
transmitted only evil and sad news, and
at times hy the cross-examinations of hard
and hostile men, who endeavored to en-
1
Vj,
CAUGHT IUM WITH HIS GRASPING
tlce from him Indictments of his com
rades, his moral as well as his physical
strength gradually weakened and he be
came completely depressed and-desired
only, as he said to himself, some end to
this unbearable position. His anguish was
increased by the doubt that had arisen in
his mind concerning his forbearance. Dur
ing the second month he caught himself
at the thought of stating the whole truth
in order to be released. He was horrified
at his frailty and no longer found in him
self his usual strength, but hated and
despised himself, feeling still greater an
guish. And most dreadful of all was that In
prison he had come to feel such regret for
his young strength and for the Joys he
had sacrificed so easily while at liberty
and which now appeared to him So en
chanting, that he regretted that which he
had regarded as good, sometimes eveTi
doubtlhg all his former activity. Thoughts
occurred to him as to how happily and
well he might have "lived at liberty, in the
country, er abroad, among beloved and
loving people; marry her, or perhaps an
other, and together live a bright, simple,
Joyful life.
IV.
During one of the painfully monotonous
days of the second month of his imprison
ment the Governor of 'the prison during
his ufeual round gave Svetlogoub a little
book with a cross gilded on its brown
cover, saying that the wife of-the Military
Governor had left some New Testaments,
which he was permitted to distribute
among the prisoners. Svetlogoub thanked
him, and with a slight smile, placed the
book on 'the little table screwed against
When the Governor had left Svetlogoub
communicated by knocks with his neigh
bor about the Governor's visit, saying he
had brought no fresh news, but only given
him a Testament, and the neighbor an
swered that the same had happened with
Then Svetlogoub opened the little book,
the leaves of which had stuck together
from the damp, and began to read. He
had never yet read the Testament as an
ordinary book. AU lie knew about it was
that which at school the scripture mas
ter had gone through and which the
priests and deacons read, intoning, In
church. '
"Chapter I. The book of the generation
of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the eon
of Abraham. Abraham begat Isaac and
Isaac begat Jacob, and Jacob begat Ju
das "... he rad. "And Zorubabel be
gat' Abiud," ... he continued to read.
All this was lust what be expected.
Strange, confused and good for nothing
nonsense. If, he were not in prison he
could not have finished one page, but here
he continued to read for the sake of
reading.
He read the first chapter about the
birth from a virgin and about the pro
phecy consisting in that the one born
should be called Emmanuel, which means
"God with us." "Where does the prophecy
come In?" thought he, and continued read-
'"ho read also the second chapter about
the moving star, and the third, about John
who fed on locusts, and then the fourth,
some devil or other proposing to Christ
a gymnastic performance from a roof. Bo
uninteresting did all this appear to him
that notwithstanding the tedium of prison
he was already going to close the Jiook
and commence hts usual evening occupa
tion of taking oft his shirt to catch fleas,
when he recalled to mind how, at his ex
amination for the fifth form, he had for
gotten one of the beatitudes and how the
red-faced, curly haired priest Suddenly
got angry and gave him a low mark. He
could not now .recollect which Beatitude
it was, so read them through. "Blessed
are they which are persecuted for right
eousness sake; for theirs is the kingdom
of heaven," he read. "This might refer
to ia." thought he. "Blessed are ye.
whe? men shall revile you and persecute
wmi ... Rejoice and be exceeding
:lad, . . for so persecuted they the
prophets wnicn were Detore you. - it
are the salt of the earth. But if the salt
have lost his savour, wherewith shall It
be .salted? It is thenceforth good for
nothing, but to be cast out, and to be
trodden under foot of men."
"This quite applies to us," he thought,
and continued reading. Having read the
fifth chapter he paused.' "Be not angry,
do not ommlt adultery, suffer evil, love
your enemies."
"Yes, were every one to live thus." he
reflected, "no revolution would be neces
sary." Reading further, he penetrated deepef
and deeper Into the meaning of these pas
sages which were comprehensible. The
more he read the more was he impressed
with the idea that something specially
significant was to be found in this book;
something at once deep, simple and touch
ing, something he had never heard before,
but with which he felt he had been ac
quainted long ago.
"Then Jesus said unto his disciples,
'If any man will come after me, let him
deny himself, and take up his cross and
follow m.
'For whatsoever will save his life shall
f Si y l m
1 'r '
FINGERS BY THE ARMS JCST ABOVE THE
THAT HE FELT THE PAIN.
lose it; and whatsoever shall lose his life
for my sake shall find It.
" "For What is a man profited If he shall
gain the whole world and lose his own
soul?"
, "Yes, yes, this Is It!" he exclaimed with
tears In his eyes. "This is precisely .what
1 wished to do; yes, this is what I wanted.
Just to surrender my soul; not to preserve
but to give it up. In this is joy, in this
is life. Much have I done in the eyes of
men for human glory" thought he "not
the glory Of the crowd, but the glory of
having the good opinion of those whom I
respected and loved of Natasha, of
Dmityri Shelomof and then came doubts
and I was uneasy. I felt at peace only
when I acted simply because my soul de
manded it, when I wished to give up my
self, the whole"of myself" .
Henceforth Svetlogoub passed the great
er part of his time in reading this book
and pondering over that which was writ
ten in It. This produced In him not only
a contrite state of mind which lifted him
out of his surroundings, but also an activ
ity of thought such as he had never ex
perienced before. He wondered why
men, all men. did not live as was said in
this book. "To live so is good, not only
for one man but for all. Were people to
live thus there would be neither grief nor
want, there would be only bliss. Could
but this finish, could but I again1 live in
freedom," he sometimes thought. "They
are bound to let me out some day or
transport me to the mines. It is all the
same; everywhere one can live thus. And
I will live bo. It Is possible and neces
sary; not to lire so is madness."
V.
During one of such days, when he was
in a joyous, uplifted state, the Governor
of the prison entered hie cell at an un
usual time and asked whether he felt well
and if he desired anything. Svetlogoub
was astonished, not understanding what
this change Indicated, and asked for cig
arettes, expecting a refusal. But the Gov
ernor promised to send Some immediately,'
and the warder did inded bring him- a
packet and some matches.
"Some one has probably interceeded for
me," mused Svetlogoub, and, having1 light
ed a cigarette, he began pacing to and
fro in bis cell, ruminating on the mean
ing of this change.
The next day he was taken to the court.
At the court, where he had already been
several times, they did not examine him;
but one of the Judges, without looking at
him, got up from his chair, as also did
the others and, holding in his hands a
paper, began reading with a loud, unnat
ural and inexpressive voice."'
Svetlogoub listened and looked at the
faces of the Judges. They all avoided
looking at him, and simply listened with
a solemn and gloomy air.
In the paper it was said that Anatole
Svetlogoub, having been convicted of rev
olutionary activity with the object of up
setting, in the near or further future, the
existing government, is condemned to the
loss of all his rights and to capital pun
ishment through hanging. ,
Svetlogoub listened and understood the
external meaning of the words pronounced
by the officer He remarked the absurd
Ity of the words "In the near or further
future," and of depriving a man of his
rights who is condemned to death, but he
did not at all grasp the actual meaning
of that which had been read to him.
Only after he was told to go and went
together with a gendarme into the street
did he begin to realize what had been an
nounced. "There is something amiss here, some
thing wrong senseless. It cannot be,"
he said to himself as he was being driven
back to the prison.
He felt in himself such a strength of
life that he could not imagine death, he
could not connect the consciousness of
hts ego with death, with the absence of
self.
Having returned to the prison, Svetlo
goub sat down on his bed, and, closing his
eyes, endeavored to realise clearly that
which awaited him, and he could not pos
sibly do so. He was quite unable to
picture the absence of his own existence
or the fact that men could desire to kill
him.
"Me. youngr. kind, happy, beloved by so
many!" thought he. and recalled to mind
the love of his mother, Natasha, his
friends. "Me to be killed hanged! Who
will do It, and why? And then what will
there be when i am no longer? It cannot
bo!" v
The governor came In. Svetlogoub did
not at first hear him.
"Who is It? What do you want?" sal
Svetlogoub not recognizing him. "Oh.
yes. It Is you. Well, then, when will it
be?" he asked. "
"I do not know." said the governor, and
having stood silent a few seconds, he
suddenly said, with an Insidious, tender
Voice: "The chaplain is here; he would
like to prepare he Would like to see you."
"It is unnecessary, unnecessary: I don't
need anything. Go away!" cried Svetlo
goub. "Would you not like to write to some
One? It Is permitted," said the governor.
"Yes, yes; send me what is necessary. I
will write." .
iff j -
WRISTS AND GRIPPING THEM SO
The governor left.'
"It is evidently tomorrow morning,
then," thought Svetlogoub. "This is the
usual thing. Tomorrow morning I shall
not be. .- . No, it can't be true; it
must be a dream."
But the warder came, the real 'familiar
warder, and brought him two pens. Ink
and notepaper and some bluish envelopes
and placed the stool in front of the table.
All this : was quite real and no dream.
"I must -hot think, not think. Yes, yes.
I will write to mother," said Svetlogoub.
He seated himself at the table and im
mediately started to write.
"My dearest own," he wrote and' began
to weep. - "Forgive me, forgive- me for all
the grief I have caused you. Whether I
was mistaken or not, I could, not have
done otherwise. One thing I beg of you;
forgive me."
"But I have already said this." thought
he. "-Well, it doesn't matter; there is.no
time to start the letter again."
"Don't grieve about me," ho wrote on.
"A little sooner, a Uttie later It Is all-the
same, is it not? I am not afraid and do
not repent of what I have done. I could
not act Otherwise.'-' Only do you forgive
me and do not bear ill feeling toward
them, toward those with whom I worked,
nor those who are executing me. Neither
could have done otherwise. Forgive
them; they know not what' they do I
dare not refer tly-se words to myself, Jjut
they are in my soul and uplift and con
sole me. Good-by. I kiss your dear,
wrinkled old hands."
Two tears, one after the other, fell on
the paper and blotted it.
"I weep, but not from grief or suffer
ing, but from contrition in the face of the
most solemn moment of my life and also
because I love you. Do not condemn my
friends, but love them, especially Prohor
of, for the very reason that he was the
cause-of my death. It is so joyful to love
him who is, I will not say, to blame, but
whom one could condemn or hate. To
love suet! a man one's enemy Is such a
Joy. Tell Natasha that her love has been
my consolation and Joy. I did not fully
realize! this, but in the depth of my soul I
was conscious of It. It was easier to Hve
knowing that ehe existed and loved tne.
Well. I have said all. Good-by."
He folded the letter, put It in nn enve
lope and sat down on his ed, placing his
hands 00 his knees and swallowing hli
He still could not believe he had to die.
and again and again asking himself
whether he were not asleep1, did he vainly
endeavor to awake: .
This thought suggested to him another
that all life In this world might be a
dream, the awakening from which will be
death. "And If this be so then may not
the consciousness of this tvurld's life be
the awakening from the sleep of a pre
vious life the details of which one does
not remember; so that life here is not the
beginning, but only a new form. I shall
die and pass into a new state." '
This idea pleased him, but when he
wished to rest himself upon It he felt
that this thought, indeed no thought of
any kind, Can give fearlessness in the face
of death. At last he became weary. The
brain no longer worked; he closed his
eyes and for long sat without thinking.
He reread the letter fand, noticing Pro
horof's name at the end. remembered that
the letter might be-read, would certainly
be read, and that this would ruin Pro
horof. "My God. what have I done?" he ex
claimed, and, tearing the letter into long
strips, he carefully burnt them over the
lamp.
He had begun to write with despair In
his heart, and now he felt himself In
peace, almost Joyful.
He took a fresh sheet and Btraightaway
commenced another letter. Thoughts one
after another crowded Into his head.
"My beloved darling mother," he wrote,
his eyes again becoming dim with tears,
and he had to wipe them with the sleeve
of his coat in order to see what he was
writing.
"How little I knew myself and ell th
power of the love and gratitude to you
which was always present in my heart.
Now I know and feel it. and when I re
call to mind our little differences the un
kind words I have addressed to you I feel
pain and shame and can hardly under
stand bow I could have done so then-
Forgive me. and remember only the good,
if such there was in me.
"Death does not terrify me. To tell you
the truth. I do not understand It do not
believe In It. If death, annihilation, does
exist, la ik not indifferent whether one
dies SO years or 30 minutes Sooner or
later? If death does not exist, then it is
quite the same whether It happens earlier
or later."
"But why am I philosophizing?" thought
he. "I must say what was In the other
letter something good at the end. Yes.
"Do not condemn my friends, but love
them, especially the one who was the un
witting cause of my death. Kiss Natasha
for me and tell her I always loved her.
"Wellthen? What will It be?" he re
verted to-his position. "Nothing? No, not
nothing. But what then?"
, All at once it became quite clear to him
that for a living man there was and
could be no answer to these questions.
"Then why do I question myself about
this why. Yes, why? One must not ques
tion, one must live as I lived just now
when writing tlfis letter. After all. every
one is condemned to die, long ago, al
ways, and yet we live. We live well, joy
fully, when ... we love. Yes. when
we love. Here was I writing this letter.
I loved and was happy. So should we
live. It Is possible to live g"o everywhere
and always, both In freedom and in prison,
today, tomorrow, and to the very end."
Ho felt the desire immediately to talk
lovingly with some one. He knocked at
the door, and when the guard -looked lh
he asked him what time it was and
whether he was soon going to be relieved,
but the guard did not answer ailythin.
Then he asked him to call the Governor.
He came, asking what was required:
"Here, I have wrltteh a letter to my
mother, please have U delivered," he said,
and tears filled his eyes at the thought of
his mother.
The Governor took the letter and prom
ising to transmit it, w;as about to leave,
when Svetlogoub retained him.
"Look here; you are a kind man, Why
do you engage in this cruel service?" he
said tenderly, touching the Governor on
his coat sleeve.
The Governor smiled unnaturally and
pitifully and, dropping his eyes, said:
"Well, one must live somehow."
"You had better give up this service.
One can always find a berth, and you are
such a kind man. Perhaps I might "
The Governor suddenly sobbed, turned
round abruptly and went out, slamming
the door.
His agitation touched Svetlogoub still
more and, restraining Joyous tears, he
begaft . pacing up and down his cell, no
longer experiencing any fear but only an
exalted state Which lifted him higher than
the world. .
The same question, "What will happen
with me after death?" which he had tried
so unsuccessfully to answer, now appeared
solved for him, and that not by any posi
tive reasoned answer but by the con
sciousness of the true' life which was in
him.
And he remembered the words of the
Gospel: "Verily, verily, I say unto you,
Except a corn of -wheat fall Into the
ground and die. it abideth alone; but if
it die it bringeth forth mdeh fruit."
"Here am I also falling into the ground.
Yes, verily, verily," he thought.
"If I could sleep," he said to himself,
"in order not to become weak later." He
lay down on the bed, closed his eyes and
immediately, fell asleep.
He awoke at 6 o'clock in the morning
under the impression of a bright, happy
dream.
He saw in his dream that together with
some little light-haired girl he was climb
ing among the spreading branches of some
trees covered with black ripe cherries and
collecting them into a big brass pan, The
cherries miss the pan and fall toward the
ground, and some strange animals or oth
ersomewhat like cats catch the cherries
and throw them Upward and catch them
again. And looking at this the little girl
screams with lauglrtef so contagiously
that Svetlogoub also merrily laughs in
his - dream, hlmseir hardly knowing at
what. All at- once the brass pan slips out
of the girl's hands. Svetlogoub tries to
catch it, but he is not in time, and the
pan, knocking against the branches with
a-ringing sound, falls to the ground. He
awakes smiling and listening to the con
tinuing sound of the pan. This ring is
the sound of the opening of iron bolts
in the corridor. Steps are heard along
the passage and the clatter of rifles. He
suddenly remembers all.
"Oh, if I could but fall asleep again,"
thinks Svetlogoub. but to do so is no
longer possible. ( The steps have reached
the door. He hears the key searching for
the lock and the squeak of the door as It
opens.
An officer of the gendarmes, the Gov
ernor and an escort entered.
"Death? Well what If it is? I will go
away. That is good. All Is good," thinks
Svetlogoub, feeling tire return of the
touchlngly exalted feeling he had experi
enced the day before.
VI.
In the same prison with Svetlogoub there
was incarcerated an old peasant sectarian
of the "Old Belief." who had lost con
fidence in his teachers and was seeking
for the true faith. He repudiated, not
only the Church since Nikon, but also the
government from the time of Peter, whom
he regarded as the Anti-Christ; the
Tsar's power he called the "tobacco king
dom" and boldly expressed his opinions
Indicting the priests and government of
ficials, for which he was tried, kept in
confinement and transferred from one
prison to another That he was no longer
free, but in prison; that the wardens
abused him, that he Was placed In irons,
that his fellow prisoners mocked him, that
they all, like the authorities, denied God
and abused each other, defiling In every
way the image of God in themselves did
not concern him; all this he had seen
everywhere in the world when he was
free. All this he knew was the conse
quence of men having lost the true faith
and of having strayed like blind puppies
from their mother. Yet he knew that the
true faith did exist. I He knew it because
he felt this faith in Ms heart; and he
sought for it everywhere. Above all, he
-hoped to find It as described in the Reve
lation of John:
"He that is unjust, let him be unjust
still; and he which is filthy, let him be
filthy still: and he that Is righteous, let
him be righteous still; and he that is holy
let him be holy still.
"And behold I come quickly, and my
reward is with jne, to give every man ac
cording as his work shall be."
And he was continually reading this
mysterious book and every minute ex
pecting the "Coming One" who would not
otily "give every man according as his
work shall be," but would also reveal the
whole of God's truth to men.
On the morning of "Svetlogoub's execu
tion he heard the noise of drums and hav
ing climbed up to his window he saw
through the bars how a cart was driven
up and how a young man, with wavy
curls, bright eyes and smiling, came out
of the prison and mounted the cart. In
his small white hand he carried a book,
which tie pressed to his heart. The sec
tarian recognized it aa the Gospel, and
the young man nodding to the prisoners
at the windows, smilingly exchanged
glances with him. The horses started and
the -cart, with the bright youth sitting in
it. surrounded by an escort, moved out of
the prison gate rattling over the stones.
The sectarian climbed down from the
window, seated himself on his bed and
meditated. "This one has found the
truth," said he. "The servants of Anti
Christ are going to strangle him with a
rope for the very reason that they would
prevent him from disclosing it to any
one."
VII.
It was a dull Autumn morning. The
sun was not visible, and a damp, mild
wind was blowing in from the sea.
The fresh air, the view of the houses,
of the town, horses and the men who
were observing him, all this distracted
Svetlogoub. Sitting on a bench in the cart,
with his back to the driver. ' he involun
tarily examined the faces of the soldiers
who were escorting him and of the towns
folk as they passed by.
It was an early hour of the morning.
The streets along which he was being
driven were almost deserted, and only
workmen were to be seen. Some lime
stained bricklayers In their aprons, who
were briskly coming along the street,
stopped and turned back, catching up to
the cart. One of them said something,
waved his band to the rest, and they
turncd and went back toward their
work.
Carters, with loads of Iron rods noisily
rattling, turning aside their heavy horses
to give room for the cart, stopped and
looked at him with astonished Interest.
One of them took off his cap and crossed
himself. A cook. In her white cap and
apron, with a basket In her hand, came
but of a gate, but, seeing the cart, quick
ly turned back into the yard and then ran
out again with another woman, and both
of them, holding their breath, followed
the cart with staring eyes as far as they
could see It. A wnjfchcdly dressed man.
unshaven and gray-haired, was, with en
ergetic gesticulation, arguing with a por
ter and pointing at Svetlogoub with evi
dent disapproval. Two little boys trotted
up and, with heads turned toward the
cart, without looking in front of them,
marched along the pavement by its side.
One, the elder, advanced with quick steps.
The little one. without a cap. holding on
to the other and looking in alarm at the
cart, with difficulty kept up While he
stumbled along on his short legs. Meet
ing his glance. Svetlogoub nodded to him.
This act on the part of the dreadful man
driven In the cart so upset the boy that
with wide-opened eyes and mouth he was
about to cry. When Svetlogoub sent him
a kiss with his hand and smiled affection
ately. And the boy unexpectedly an
swered him with a pleasant, kind smile.
During the whole of the journey the
knowledge of what was awaiting him did
not interfere with Svetlogoub's peacefully
solemn state of mind.
Only when they approached the gallows,
and he was taken down from the cart and
Paw the posts with the cross-beam and
the rope slightly swaying on It In the
Wind, he felt, as it were, a physical blow
at his heart. He turned sick, but this
Was only momentary. Around the plat
form he saw dark rows of soldiers hold
ing rifles, with officers moving about In
front. As he was being led from the cart
an unexpected rattle of drums broke out
which made him start. Behind the rows
of soldiers Svetlogoub saw carriages With
gentlemen and ladies Who had come to
witness the spectacle. The view of all
this for the first moment astonished
Svetlogoub, but he Instantly remembered
what he himself was before his impris
onment, and he felt only pity for these
people because they were Ignorant of
what he now knew. But they will know!
"I shall die, but the truth will live. They
will know It, and all, not me alone, can
and will be happy."
He was led onto the platform, an officer
coming up after him. The drums ceased
and the officer read, with art" unnatural
voice, sounding particularly weak in the
wide open field after the rattle of the
drums, that stupid death sentence which
was read to him by the Judge about de
priving a man of his rights whom you
are about to kill and about the nearer or
further future.
"Why, why do they do all this?"
thought Svetlogoub. "What a pity it is
they do not yet understand and that I am
no longer able to explain to them; but
they shall know. Everybody shall know."
A sleek-looking priest, with long, thin
hair, dressed in a violet-colored cassock,
approached Svetlogoub, carrying a silver
cross In his slim, white, sinuous hand
protruding from under a black velvet
cuff.
"Merciful God," he began, passing tin
cross from his left hand into the right
and. holding It before Svetlogoub. Svetlo
goub started and turned away. He al
most said something unkind to the priest
for participating in such a scene and for
speaking of mercy, but recalling the
words of the Gospel, "They know not
what they do," he made an effort and
timidly murmured, "Excuse me, I do not
require it. Please pardon but I really
don't need it. thank you."
He held out his hand to the priest, the
priest transferred the cross back into his
left hand, and having shaken hands with
Svetlogoub, endeavoring not to look him
In the face, descended from the platform.
The drums beat again, stifling all other
sounds.
After the priest came a man of average
height, with round shoulders and muscu
lar arms, wearing a coat over his Russian
blouse, and approached Svetlogoub. shak
ing the boards of the platform with his
quick steps. This man, with a sharp
glance at Svetlogoub, came up quite close
to him spreading an unpleasant smell of
spirits and perspiration, caught him with
his grasping fingers by the arms just
above the wrists and. gripping them so
that he felt pain, twisted them behind
his back and tied them firmly. Having
fastened his bands thus the hangman
stopped lof a minute, as if considering,
and glanced from Svetlogoub to some
things he had placed on the platform and
then to the rope hanging from the cross
beam. Having calculated what he re
quired he went to the rope, did something
with It and pushed Svetlogoub forward
nearer to the rope and the edge of the
platform. -
As during the announcement of his
death sentence Svetlogoub could not real
ize what it all meant for him, so also now
he could not grasp the full meaning of
the approaching moment and looked with
astonishment at the executioner, who
was quickly, adroitly and carefully ful
filling his dreadful work. The execution
er's face was the most ordinary one of
a Russian workingman, not cruel but
Concentrated, such as those have who are
trying to fulfill a necessary and comple
task aa accurately as possible.
"Yet a little more this way," said the
hangman with a hoarse voice, pushlns
him nearer, to the edge.
Svetlogoub moved. "Lord, help mel
have mercy on me!" he murmured.
Svetlogoub did not believe in God, and
had even often laughed at those who be
lieved in him. And even now he did not
believe In God. He did not because he
could neither express him in words nor
grasp him In thought. But that which he
now implied by the one he wag address
inghe felt it Was something the most
real of all that he knew. He also knew
this appeal was necessary and Important
because it immediately strengthened and
soothed him.
He approached the edge and. lnvolun-'
tarlly glancing around at .the rows of sol
diers and brightly dressed onlookers, he
once more thought: Why, why do they
do this? And he felt pity both for them
and for himself, and tears caine into his
eyAnd are you not sorry for me?" he
said, catching the quick gray eyes of the
hangman.
The hangman stopped for a moment, his
face suddenly became hard.
"Now, then; no talking!" he mumbled,
and quickly bent down to the floor, whore
his overcoat was lying and some cloth,
and with a nimble movement of both
hands embracing Svetlogoub from behind,
he threw over his head a cloth bag and
hurriedly pulled it half way down his back
and front.
"Into thy fcadS I commend my spirit."
thought Svetlogoub, recalling the words
of the Gospel.
His spirit did not oppose death, but his
strong-young body did not accept it, did
not submit, and wished to struggle.
He wanted to shout, to free himself, but
at that very moment he felt & Jerk, the
loss of his foothold, the physical horror
(Concluded on Page 34.)