“He does believe. He believes,” agreed Vladychka. “It’s always His turn, it never stops being His turn. It was said, whoever loves his soul will destroy it, but whoever hates his soul, he will find it. Russia has come to hate its soul, in order to find it again.”
“And it is finding it,” Mezernitskii answered a tone, or even two, higher. “It finds it!” Even Grakov turned around at that tone, while Vasilii Petrovich stopped chewing his blade of grass.
Mezernitskii made a gesture with both hands, as though he were tearing apart the invisible cloud and finally came outside, covered in sweat and exhausted.
“Our dear priest doesn’t read books. In Russia, priests in general don’t like education very much, since it tries to usurp the place that they already hold… the place from which they preac
