To the monks of his convent, Mikail formed a noteworthy contrast. His
mind, remarkably active for one so young, refused to accept the
intricate mass of dogmas without endeavoring to analyze them and trace
them back to their original sources. For years he had accepted the
stories of miracles and revelations unquestioningly, but after he had
begun a course of independent reading and reflection he discovered
discrepancies and contradictions, which sowed the seed of grave doubts
in his restive brain.

He confided his doubts to Alexei, his superior. This worthy gave the
matter very little consideration; he shrugged his shoulders, stroked his
beard, now a venerable white, and answered:

"I, too, had my doubts at your age, but I got bravely over them. The
miracles of which the Bible speaks are undoubtedly true, for the people
living in those times beheld them. That such things do not occur
nowadays is no proof that they could not have happened then. Our duty is
to believe what our ancient writings tell us, to see that the lamps are
kept burning before the icons, and that our ceremonials are observed to
the letter. A priest has no right to question what is sanctioned by
tradition and belief."

For a time, Mikail was content to accept this explanation and to keep
his peace. But doubt was not so easily quieted. Ever and again he would
seek the solitude of his cell and ponder over the grave and perplexing
questions that disturbed him. He found no solution. He had been
educated in an atmosphere of bigotry and superstition, had been brought
up rigorously in the belief that God himself had descended from Heaven
and adopted the form of man; had been daily taught that blind faith,
independent of deed, would lead to salvation. These dogmas now appeared
at variance with his conception of truth. Harassed by doubts, tormented
by superstitious fears for the safety of his soul, Mikail led a wretched
existence.

Gradually, the monotonous, inactive life of the monastery began to pall
upon him. He soon found, too, that many of his brethren believed as
little as he did; that others were too indolent to reflect and believed
as a matter of course. The thousand ceremonials, the carelessly recited
prayers, the perfunctory invocations, the prescribed signs, crosses and
genuflections before the rudely painted icons, appeared to him as hollow
mockeries, and soon the place seemed redolent with deceit.

It was a severe struggle for the young man,