and began to pace the room, folding his hands behind his
back.

"It goes all right," he said. "Just now, for instance, it has brought
you here to me with an open heart. We who work our whole life long--it
unites us gradually and more and more every day. The time will come
when we shall all be united. Life is arranged unjustly for us and is
made a burden. At the same time, however, life itself is opening our
eyes to its bitter meaning and is itself showing man the way to
accelerate its pace. We all of us think just as we live."

"True. But wait!" Rybin stopped him. "Man ought to be
renovated--that's what I think! When a man grows scabby, take him to
the bath, give him a thorough cleaning, put clean clothes on him--and
he will get well. Isn't it so? And if the heart grows scabby, take
its skin off, even if it bleeds, wash it, and dress it up all afresh.
Isn't it so? How else can you clean the inner man? There now!"

Pavel began to speak hotly and bitterly about God, about the Czar,
about the government authorities, about the factory, and how in foreign
countries the workingmen stand up for their rights. Rybin smiled
occasionally; sometimes he struck a finger on the table as if
punctuating a period. Now and then he cried out briefly: "So!" And
once, laughing out, he said quietly: "You're young. You know people
but little!"

Pavel stopping before him said seriously:

"Let's not talk of being old or being young. Let us rather see whose
thoughts are truer."

"That is, according to you, we've been fooled about God also. So! I,
too, think that our religion is false and injurious to us."

Here the mother intervened. When her son spoke about God and about
everything that she connected with her faith in him, which was dear and
sacred to her, she sought to meet his eyes, she wanted to ask her son
mutely not to chafe her heart with the sharp, bitter words of his
unbelief. And she felt that Rybin, an older man, would also be
displeased and offended. But when Rybin calmly put his question to
Pavel, she could no longer contain herself, and said firmly: "When you
speak of God, I wish you were more careful. You can do whatever you
like. You have your compensation in your work." Catching her breath
she continued with still greater vehemence: "But I, an old woman, I
will have nothing to lean upon in my distress if you take my God away
from me."

Her eyes filled with tears. She was washing the dishes, a