Section 41 of The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky, translated by Constance Garnet, this LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Bruce Peary, Book VI, Chapter III. Conversations and Exortations of Father Zosima. Part I. The Russian Monk and His Possible Significance. Fathers and teachers, what is the monk? In the cultivated world the word is nowadays pronounced by some people with a jeer, and by others it is used as a term of abuse, and this contempt for the monk is growing. It is true, alas, it is true that there are many sluggards, gluttons, profligates, and insolent beggars among monks. Educated people point to these.  And yet how many meek and humble monks there are, yearning for solitude and fervent prayer in peace, these are less noticed or passed over in silence. And how surprised men would be if I were to say that from these meek monks who yearn for solitary prayer the salvation of Russia will come, perhaps once more. For they are in truth made ready in peace and quiet for the day and the hour, the month and the year. Meanwhile in their solitude they keep the image of Christ fair and undefiled in the purity of God's truth from the times of the fathers of old, the apostles and the martyrs. And when the time comes they will show it to the tottering creeds of the world. That is a great thought, that star will rise out of the east. That is my view of the monk, and is it false? Is it too proud? Look at the worldly and all who set themselves up above the people of God. Has not God's image and his truth been distorted in them? They have science, but in science there is nothing but what is the object of sense. The spiritual world, the higher part of man's being, is rejected altogether, dismissed with the sort of triumph even with hatred. The world has proclaimed the reign of freedom, especially of late, but what do we see in this freedom of theirs? Nothing but slavery and self-destruction. For the world says, you have desires and so satisfy them, for you have the same rights as the most rich and powerful.  That is the modern doctrine of the world. In that they see freedom. And what follows from this right of multiplication of desires? In the rich, isolation, and spiritual suicide, in the poor, envy, and murder, for they have been given rights, but have not been shown the means of satisfying their wants. They maintain that the world is getting more and more united, more and more bound together in brotherly community, as it overcomes distance and sets thoughts flying through the air. Alas, put no faith in such a bond of union. Interpreting freedom as the multiplication and rapid satisfaction of desires, men distort their own nature, for many senseless and foolish desires and habits and ridiculous fancies are fostered in them. They live only for mutual envy, for luxury and ostentation. To have dinners, visits, carriages, rank and slaves to wait on one is looked upon as a necessity, for which life, honor, and human feeling are sacrificed, and men even commit suicide if they are unable to satisfy it. We see the same thing among those who are not rich, while the poor drown their unsatisfied need and their envy in drunkenness. But soon they will drink blood instead of wine. They are being led on to it. I ask you, is such a man free? I knew one champion of freedom who told me himself that when he was deprived of tobacco in prison, he was so wretched at the privation that he almost went and betrayed his cause for the sake of getting tobacco again. And such a man says, I am fighting for the cause of humanity. How can such a one fight? What is he fit for? He is capable perhaps of some action quickly over, but he cannot hold out long. And it's no wonder that instead of gaining freedom, they have sunk into slavery, and instead of serving the cause of brotherly love and the union of humanity, have fallen, on the contrary, into dissension and isolation as my mysterious visitor and teacher said to me in my youth. And therefore the idea of the service of humanity, of brotherly love and the solidarity of mankind, is more and more dying out in the world, and indeed this idea is sometimes treated with derision. For how can a man shake off his habits? What can become of him if he is in such bondage to the habit of satisfying the innumerable desires he has created for himself? He is isolated, and what concern has he with the rest of humanity? They have succeeded in accumulating a greater mass of objects, but the joy in the world has grown less. The monastic way is very different. Obedience, fasting, and prayer are laughed at, yet only through them lies the way to real, true freedom. I cut off my superfluous and unnecessary desires, I subdue my proud and wanton will, and chastise it with obedience, and with God's help I attain freedom of spirit and with it spiritual joy. Which is most capable of conceiving a great idea and serving it, the rich man in his isolation, or the man who has freed himself from the tyranny of material things and habits? The monk is reproached for his solitude. You have secluded yourself within the walls of the monastery for your own salvation, and have forgotten the brotherly service of humanity. But we shall see which will be the most zealous in the cause of brotherly love. For it is not we, but they, who are in isolation, though they don't see that. Of old, leaders of the people came from among us, and why should they not again? The same meek and humble aesthetics will rise up and go out to work for the great cause. The salvation of Russia comes from the people, and the Russian monk has always been on the side of the people. We are isolated only if the people are isolated. The people believe as we do, and an unbelieving reformer will never do anything in Russia, even if he is sincere in heart and a genius. Remember that. The people will meet the atheist and overcome him, and Russia will be one and orthodox. Take care of the peasant and guard his heart. Go on educating him quietly. That's your duty as monks, for the peasant has God in his heart. Part F. Of masters and servants, and of whether it is possible for them to be brothers in the spirit. Of course, I don't deny that there is sin in the peasants, too, and the fire of corruption is spreading visibly, hourly, working from above downwards. The spirit of isolation is coming upon the people, too. Moneylenders and devourers of the commune are rising up. Already the merchant grows more and more eager for rank, and strives to show himself cultured, though he has not a trace of culture, and to this end meanly despises his old traditions, and is even ashamed of the faith of his fathers. He visits princes, though he is only a peasant corrupted. The peasants are rotting in drunkenness and cannot shake off the habit, and what cruelty to their wives, to their children even, all from drunkenness. I've seen in the factories children of nine years old, frail, rickety, bent, and already depraved. The stuffy workshop, the din of machinery, work all day long, the vile language, and the drink, the drink. Is that what a little child's heart needs? He needs sunshine, childish play, good examples all about him, and at least a little love. There must be no more of this, monks, no more torturing of children. Rise up and preach that. Make haste, make haste. But God will save Russia, for though the peasants are corrupted and cannot renounce their filthy sin, yet they know it is cursed by God and that they do wrong in sinning, so that our people still believe in righteousness, have faith in God, and weep tears of devotion. It is different with the upper classes. They, following science, want to base justice on reason alone, but not with Christ as before, and they have already proclaimed that there is no crime, that there is no sin. And that's consistent, for if you have no God, what is the meaning of crime? In Europe the people are already rising up against the rich with violence, and the leaders of the people are everywhere leading them to bloodshed and teaching them that their wrath is righteous. But their wrath is a cursed, for it is cruel. But God will save Russia, as he has saved her many times. Salvation will come from the people, from their faith, and their meekness. Fathers and teachers, watch over the people's faith, and this will not be a dream. I've been struck all my life in our great people by their dignity, their true and seemly dignity. I've seen it myself, I can testify to it. I've seen it and marveled at it. I've seen it in spite of the degraded sins and poverty-circum appearance of our peasantry. They are not servile, and even after two centuries of serfdom, they are free in manner and bearing, yet without insolence, and not revengeful, and not envious.  Well, be so. God bless you. I respect you. But I know that I too am a man. By the very fact that I respect you without envy, I prove my dignity as a man. In truth, if they don't say this, for they don't know how to say this yet, that is how they act. I have seen it myself, I have known it myself. And would you believe it? The poorer our Russian peasant is, the more noticeable is that serene goodness, for the rich among them are for the most part corrupted already, and much of that is due to our carelessness and indifference. But God will save his people for Russia is great in her humility. I dream of seeing and seem to see clearly already our future. It will come to pass that even the most corrupt of our rich will end by being ashamed of his riches before the poor, and the poor, seeing his humility, will understand and give way before him, will respond joyfully and kindly to his honourable shame. Believe me that it will end in that. Things are moving to that. Equality is to be found only in the spiritual dignity of man, and that will only be understood among us. If we were brothers, there would be fraternity. But before that they will never agree about the division of wealth. We preserve the image of Christ and it will shine forth like a precious diamond to the whole world. So may it be, so may it be. Fathers and teachers, a touching incident befell me once. In my wanderings I met, in the town of Kay, my old orderly Afanasi. It was eight years since I had parted from him. He chanced to see me in the marketplace, recognised me, ran up to me, and how delighted he was. He simply pounced on me. Master dear, is it you? Is it really you I see? He took me home with him. He was no longer in the army. He was married and already had two little children. He and his wife earned their living as costumongers in the marketplace. His room was poor but bright and clean. He made me sit down, set the samavar, sent for his wife, as though my appearance were a festival for them. He brought me his children. Bless them, father. Is it for me to bless them? I am only a humble monk. I will pray for them. And for you, Afanasi Pavlovitch, I have prayed every day since that day, for it all came from you, said I. And I explained that to him as well as I could. And what do you think? The man kept gazing at me and could not believe that I, his former master and officer, was now before him in such a guise and position it made him shed tears. Why are you weeping, said I? Better rejoice over me, dear friend, whom I can never forget, for my path is a glad and joyful one. He did not say much but kept sighing and shaking his head over me tenderly. What has become of your fortune? he asked. I gave it to the monastery, I answered. We live in common. After tea I began saying goodbye, and suddenly he brought out half a ruble as an offering to the monastery, and another half-ruble I saw him thrusting hurriedly into my hand. That's for you, in your wanderings. It may be of use to you, father. I took his half-ruble, bowed to him and his wife, and went out rejoicing. And on my way I thought, Here we are both now, he at home and I on the road, sighing and shaking our heads no doubt, and yet smiling joyfully in the gladness of our hearts, remembering how God brought about our meeting. I have never seen him again since then. I had been his master and he my servant, but now when we exchanged a loving kiss with softened hearts there was a great human bond between us. I have thought a great deal about that, and now what I think is this. Is it so inconceivable that that grand and simple-hearted unity might in due time become universal among the Russian people? I believe that it will come to pass and that the time is at hand. And of servants I will add this. In old days when I was young I was often angry with servants. The cook had served something too hot the orderly had not brushed my clothes. But what taught me better then was a thought of my dear brothers, which I had heard from him in childhood. Am I worth it that another should serve me and be ordered about by me in his poverty and ignorance? And I wondered at the time that such simple and self-evident ideas should be so slow to occur to our minds. It is impossible that there should be no servants in the world, but act so that your servant may be freer in spirit than if he were not a servant. And why cannot I be a servant to my servant and even let him see it, and that without any pride on my part or any mistrust on his? Why should not my servant be like my own kindred so that I may take him into my family and rejoice in doing so? Even now this can be done, but it will lead to the grand unity of men in the future, when a man will not seek servants for himself or desire to turn his fellow creatures into servants as he does now, but on the contrary will long with his whole heart to be the servant of all, as the Gospel teaches. And can it be a dream that in the end man will find his joy only in deeds of light and mercy and not in cruel pleasures as now in gluttony, fornication, ostentation, boasting, and envious rivalry of one with the other? I firmly believe that it is not and that the time is at hand. People laugh and ask, when will that time come, and does it look like coming? I believe that with Christ's help we shall accomplish this great thing, and how many ideas there have been on earth in the history of man which were unthinkable ten years before they appeared. Yet when their destined hour had come they came forth and spread over the whole earth, so it will be with us, and our people will shine forth in the world, and all men will say, the stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone of the building. And we may ask the scornful themselves, if our hope is a dream, when will you build up your edifice and order things justly by your intellect alone without Christ? If they declare that it is they who are advancing towards unity, only the most simple-hearted among them believe it, so that one may positively marvel at such simplicity. Of a truth they have more fantastic dreams than we. They aim at justice, but denying Christ they will end by flooding the earth with blood, for blood cries out for blood, and he that taketh up the sword shall perish by the sword. And if it were not for Christ's covenant they would slaughter one another down to the last two men on earth, and those two last men would not be able to restrain each other in their pride, and the one would slay the other and then himself, and that would come to pass were it not for the promise of Christ that for the sake of the humble and meek the days shall be shortened. While I was still wearing an officer's uniform after my duel, I talked about servants in general society, and I remember everyone was amazed at me. What, they asked, are we to make our servants sit down on the sofa and offer them tea? And I answered them, why not, sometimes, at least. Everyone laughed. Their question was frivolous, and my answer was not clear, but the thought in it was to some extent right. Part g. Of prayer, of love, and of contact with other worlds. Young men, be not forgetful of prayer. Every time you pray, if your prayer is sincere, there will be new feeling and new meaning in it, which will give you fresh courage, and you will understand that prayer is an education. Remember to, every day and whenever you can, repeat to yourself, Lord, have mercy on all who appear before thee today. For every hour and every moment thousands of men leave life on this earth, and their souls appear before God. And how many of them depart in solitude, unknown, sad, dejected that no one mourns for them, or even knows whether they have lived or not. And, behold, from the other end of the earth, perhaps, your prayer, for their rest, will rise up to God, though you knew them not, nor they you. How touching it must be to a soul standing in dread before the Lord, to feel at that instant that, for him too, there is one to pray, that there is a fellow creature left on earth to love him too.  For if you have had so much pity on him, how much will he have pity who is infinitely more loving and merciful than you, and he will forgive him for your sake. Brothers, have no fear of men's sin. Love a man even in his sin, for that is the semblance of divine love, and is the highest love on earth. Love all God's creation, the whole, and every grain of sand in it. Love every leaf, every ray of God's light. Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you perceive it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day, and you will come at last to love the whole world with an all-embracing love. Love the animals. God has given them the rudiments of thought and joy untroubled. Do not trouble it. Don't harass them. Don't deprive them of their happiness. Don't work against God's intent. Man, do not pride yourself on superiority to the animals. They are without sin.  Alas, it is true of almost every one of us. Love children, especially, for they too are sinless like the angels. They live to soften and purify our hearts, and as it were to guide us. Woe to him who offends a child. Father Anfim taught me to love children, the kind, silent man used often on our wanderings to spend the farthings given us on sweets and cakes for the children. He could not pass by a child without emotion. That's the nature of the man. At some thoughts one stands perplexed, especially at the sight of men's sin, and wonders whether one should use force or humble love. Always decide to use humble love. If you resolve on that once for all, you may subdue the whole world. Loving humility is marvelously strong, the strongest of all things, and there is nothing else like it. Every day and every hour, every minute, walk round yourself and watch yourself, and see that your image is a seemly one.   You may not have noticed the child, but he has seen you, and your image, unseemly and ignoble, may remain in his defenseless heart. You don't know it, but you may have sown an evil seed in him, and it may grow, and all because you were not careful before the child, because you did not foster in yourself a careful, actively benevolent love. Brothers, love is a teacher, but one must know how to acquire it, for it is hard to acquire. It is dearly bought. It is one slowly, by long labour, for we must love not only occasionally for a moment, but for ever. Everyone can love occasionally, even the wicked can. My brother asked the birds to forgive him. That sounds senseless, but it is right, for all is like an ocean, all is flowing and blending. A touch in one place sets up movement at the other end of the earth. It may be senseless to beg forgiveness of the birds, but birds would be happier at your side, a little happier anyway, and children and all animals, if you were nobler than you are now. It's all like an ocean, I tell you. Then you would pray to the birds too, consumed by an all-embracing love in a sort of transport, and pray that they too will forgive you your sin. Treasure this ecstasy, however senseless it may seem to men. My friends, pray to God for gladness. Be glad as children, as the birds of heaven, and let not the sin of men confound you in your doings. Fear not that it will wear away your work and hinder its being accomplished. Do not say, sin is mighty, wickedness is mighty, evil environment is mighty, and we are lonely and helpless, and evil environment is wearing us away and hindering our good work from being done. Fly from that, dejection children. There is only one means of salvation. Then take yourself and make yourself responsible for all men's sins. That is the truth, you now, friends, for as soon as you sincerely make yourself responsible for everything and for all men, you will see at once that it is really so, and that you are to blame for every one and for all things. But, throwing your own indolence and impotence on others, you will end by sharing the pride of Satan and murmuring against God. Of the pride of Satan, what I think is this, it is hard for us on earth to comprehend it. Therefore, it is so easy to fall into error and to share it, even imagining that we are doing something grand and fine. Indeed, many of the strongest feelings and movements of our nature we cannot comprehend on earth. Let not that be a stumbling block, and think not that it may serve as a justification to you for anything. For the eternal judge asks of you what you can comprehend and not what you cannot. You will know that yourself hereafter, for you will behold all things truly then and will not dispute them. On earth, indeed, we are, as it were, astray, and if it were not for the precious image of Christ before us, we should be undone and altogether lost, as was the human race before the flood. Much on earth is hidden from us, but to make up for that we have been given a precious mystic sense of our living bond with the other world, with the higher, heavenly world, and the roots of our thoughts and feelings are not here, but in other worlds. That is why the philosophers say that we cannot apprehend the reality of things on earth. God took seeds from different worlds and sewed them on this earth, and his garden grew up and everything came up that could come up. But what grows, lives, and is alive only through the feeling of its contact with other mysterious worlds.   That's what I think. Part H Can a man judge his fellow creatures? Faith to the end Remember particularly that you cannot be a judge of anyone, for no one can judge a criminal until he recognizes that he is just such a criminal as the man standing before him, and that he perhaps is more than all men to blame for that crime. When he understands that, he will be able to be a judge. Though that sounds absurd, it is true.  If you can take upon yourself the crime of the criminal your heart is judging, take it at once, suffer for him yourself, and let him go without reproach. And even if the law itself makes you his judge, act in the same spirit so far as possible, for he will go away and condemn himself more bitterly than you have done.  It shows his time has not yet come, but it will come in due course. And if it come not, no matter, if not he, then another in his place will understand and suffer, and judge and condemn himself, and the truth will be fulfilled. Believe that, believe it without doubt, for in that lies all the hope and faith of the saints. Work without ceasing. If you remember in the night as you go to sleep, I have not done what I ought to have done, rise up at once and do it. If the people around you are spiteful and callous and will not hear you, fall down before them and beg their forgiveness, for in truth you are to blame for they are not wanting to hear you. And if you cannot speak to them in their bitterness, serve them in silence and in humility, never losing hope. If all men abandon you, and even drive you away by force, then when you are left alone, fall on the earth and kiss it, water it with your tears, and it will bring forth fruit, even though no one has seen or heard you in your solitude. Believe to the end, even if all men went astray and you were left the only one faithful, bring your offering even then and praise God in your loneliness. And if two of you are gathered together, then there is a whole world, a world of living love. Embrace each other tenderly and praise God, for if only in you too his truth has been fulfilled. If you sin yourself and grieve even unto death for your sins or for your sudden sin, then rejoice for others, rejoice for the righteous man, rejoice that if you have sinned, he is righteous and has not sinned. If the evil doing of men moves you to indignation and overwhelming distress, even to a desire for vengeance on the evildoers, shun above all things that feeling. Go at once and seek suffering for yourself, as though you were yourself guilty of that wrong. Accept that suffering and bear it, and your heart will find comfort, and you will understand that you too are guilty, for you might have been a light to the evildoers, even as the one man sinless, and you were not a light to them. If you had been a light, you would have lightened the path for others too, and the evildoer might perhaps have been saved by your light from his sin. And even though your light was shining, yet you see men were not saved by it, hold firm and doubt not the power of the heavenly light. Believe that if they were not saved, they will be saved hereafter. And if they are not saved hereafter, then their sons will be saved, for your light will not die, even when you are dead. The righteous man departs, but his light remains. Men are always saved after the death of the deliverer. Men reject their prophets and slay them, but they love their martyrs, and honour those whom they have slain. You are working for the whole, you are acting for the future. Seek no reward, for great is your reward on this earth, the spiritual joy which is only vouchsafed to the righteous man. Fear not the great nor the mighty, but be wise and ever serene. Know the measure, know the times, study that. When you are left alone, pray. Love to throw yourself on the earth, and kiss it. Kiss the earth, and love it with an unceasing, consuming love. Love all men, love everything. Seek that rapture and ecstasy. Water the earth with the tears of your joy, and love those tears.  Prize it, for it is a gift of God and a great one. It is not given to many, but only to the elect. Part I of Hell and Hellfire, a mystic reflection. Fathers and teachers, I ponder, what is Hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love. Once in infinite existence, immeasurable in time and space, a spiritual creature was given on his coming to earth the power of saying, I am and I love. Once, only once, there was given him a moment of active living love, and for that was earthly life given him, and with it times and seasons. And that happy creature rejected the priceless gift, prized it and loved it not, scorned it and remained callous. Such a one, having left the earth, sees Abraham's bosom and talks with Abraham as we are told in the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, and beholds heaven and can go up to the Lord. But that is just his torment, to rise up to the Lord without ever having loved, to be brought close to those who have loved when he has despised their love. For he sees clearly, and says to himself, now I have understanding, and though I now thirst to love, there will be nothing great, no sacrifice in my love, for my earthly life is over, and Abraham will not come even with a drop of living water, that is the gift of earthly active life, to cool the fiery thirst of spiritual love which burns in me now, though I despised it on earth. There is no more life for me, and will be no more time. Even though I would gladly give my life for others, it can never be, for that life is past which can be sacrificed for love, and now there is a gulf fixed between that life and this existence. They talk of hellfire in the material sense. I don't go into that mystery, and I shun it. But I think if there were fire in material sense they would be glad of it, for I imagine that in material agony their still greater spiritual agony would be forgotten for a moment. Moreover, that spiritual agony cannot be taken from them, for that suffering is not external, but within them. And if it could be taken from them, I think it would be bitterer still for the unhappy creatures. For even if the righteous in paradise forgave them, beholding their tarments, and called them up to heaven in their infinite love, they would only multiply their tarments, for they would arouse in them still more keenly a flaming thirst for responsive, active, and grateful love which is now impossible. In the timidity of my heart I imagine, however, that the very recognition of this impossibility would serve at last to console them. For accepting the love of the righteous together with the impossibility of repaying it by this submissiveness and the effect of this humility they will attain at last as it were, to a certain semblance of that active love which they scorned in life, to something like its outward expression. I am sorry, friends and brothers, that I cannot express this clearly, but woe to those who have slain themselves on earth, woe to the suicides. I believe that there can be none more miserable than they. They tell us that it is a sin to pray for them, and outwardly the church as it were renounces them. But in my secret heart I believe that we may pray even for them. Love can never be an offence to Christ. For such as those I have prayed inwardly all my life, I confess it fathers and teachers, and even now I pray for them every day. Oh, there are some who remain proud and fierce even in hell, in spite of their certain knowledge and contemplation of the absolute truth. There are some fearful ones who have given themselves over to Satan and his proud spirit entirely.      But they will not attain to death. Here Alexei Fyodorovich Karamazov's manuscript ends. I repeat, it is incomplete and fragmentary. Biographical details, for instance, cover only Father Sassima's earliest youth. Of his teaching and opinions we find brought together sayings evidently uttered on very different occasions. His utterances during the last few hours have not been kept separate from the rest, but their general character can be gathered from what we have in Alexei Fyodorovich's manuscript. The elder's death came, in the end, quite unexpectedly, for although those who were gathered about him that last evening realized that his death was approaching, yet it was difficult to imagine that it would come so suddenly. On the contrary, his friends, as I observed already, seeing him that night apparently so cheerful and talkative, were convinced that there was at least a temporary change for the better in his condition. Even five minutes before his death, they said afterwards, wonderingly, it was impossible to foresee it. He seemed suddenly to feel an acute pain in his chest. He turned pale and pressed his hands to his heart. All rose from their seats and hastened to him, but, though suffering, he still looked at them with a smile, sank slowly from his chair onto his knees, then bowed his face to the ground, stretched out his arms and, as though in joyful ecstasy, praying and kissing the ground, quietly and joyfully, gave up his soul to God. The news of his death spread at once through the hermitage and reached the monastery. The nearest friends of the deceased and those whose duty it was, from their position, began to lay out the corpse according to the ancient ritual and all the monks gathered together in the church. And before dawn, the news of the death reached the town. By the morning, all the town was talking of the event and crowds were flocking from the town to the monastery. But this subject will be treated in the next book. I will only add here that before a day had passed something happened so unexpected, so strange, upsetting, and bewildering in its effect on the monks and the townspeople, that, after all these years, that day of general suspense is still vividly remembered in the town. THE BODY OF FATHER SASSIMA was prepared for burial according to the established ritual, as is well known, the bodies of dead monks and hermits are not washed. In the words of the church ritual, if any one of the monks depart in the Lord, the monk designated, that is, whose office it is, shall wipe the body with warm water, making first the sign of the cross with the sponge on the forehead of the deceased, on the breast, on the hands and feet and on the knees, and that is enough. All this was done by Father Paisi, who then clothed the deceased in his monastic garb and wrapped him in his cloak, which was, according to custom, somewhat slit to allow of its being folded about him in the form of a cross. On his head he put a hood with an eight-cornered cross. The hood was left open and the dead man's face was covered with black gauze. In his hands was put an icon of the Saviour. Towards morning he was put in the coffin which had been made ready long before. It was decided to leave the coffin all day in the cell, in the larger room in which the elder used to receive his visitors and fellow monks. As the deceased was a priest and monk of the strictest rule, the Gospel, not the Psalter, had to be read over his body by monks in holy orders. The reading was begun by Father Joseph immediately after the Requiem service. Father Paisi desired later on to read the Gospel all day and night over his dead friend, but for the present he, as well as the Father Superintendent of the Hermitage, was very busy and occupied for something extraordinary and unheard of, even unseemly excitement and impatient expectation began to be apparent in the monks and the visitors from the monastery hostels and the crowds of people flocking from the town. And as time went on this grew more and more marked. Both the Superintendent and Father Paisi did their utmost to calm the general bustle and agitation. When it was fully daylight some people began bringing their sick, in most cases children, with them from the town, as though they had been waiting expressly for this moment to do so, evidently persuaded that the dead elder's remains had a power of healing which would be immediately made manifest in accordance with their faith. It was only then apparent how unquestionably everyone in our town had accepted Father Zosima during his lifetime as a great saint, and those who came were far from being all of the humbler classes. This intense expectation on the part of believers displayed with such haste, such openness, even with impatience and almost insistence, impressed Father Paisi as unseemly. Though he had long foreseen something of this sort, the actual manifestation of the feeling was beyond anything he had looked for. When he came across any of the monks who displayed this excitement, Father Paisi began to reprove them. Such immediate expectation of something extraordinary, he said, shows a levity possible to worldly people but unseemly in us. But little attention was paid him, and Father Paisi noticed it uneasily. Yet he himself, if the whole truth must be told, secretly at the bottom of his heart cherished almost the same hopes and could not but be aware of it, though he was indignant at the two impatient expectation around him and saw in it light-mindedness and vanity. Nevertheless it was particularly unpleasant to him to meet certain persons whose presence aroused in him great misgivings. In the crowd in the dead man's cell he noticed with inward aversion, for which he immediately reproached himself, the presence of Raketen and of the monk from Obdorsk, who was still staying in the monastery. Of both of them Father Paisi felt, for some reason, suddenly suspicious, though indeed he might well have felt the same about others. The monk from Obdorsk was conspicuous as the most fussy in the excited crowd. He was to be seen everywhere, everywhere he was asking questions, everywhere he was listening. On all sides he was whispering with a peculiar mysterious air. His expression showed the greatest impatience and even the sort of irritation. As for Raketen, he, as appeared later, had come so early to the Hermitage at the special request of Madame Holakoff. As soon as that good-hearted but weak-minded woman, who could not herself have been admitted to the Hermitage, waked and heard of the death of Father Zasima, she was overtaken with such intense curiosity that she promptly dispatched Raketen to the Hermitage to keep a careful lookout and report to her by letter every half hour or so everything that takes place. She regarded Raketen as a most religious and devote young man. He was particularly clever in getting round people and assuming whatever part he thought most to their taste if he detected the slightest advantage to himself from doing so. It was a bright, clear day, and many of the visitors were thronging about the tombs which were particularly numerous round the church and scattered here and there about the Hermitage. As he walked round the Hermitage, Father Paisi remembered Alyasha and that he had not seen him for some time, not since the night. And he had no sooner thought of him than he at once noticed him in the farthest corner of the Hermitage garden, sitting on the tombstone of a monk who had been famous long ago for his saintliness. He sat with his back to the Hermitage and his face to the wall and seemed to be hiding behind the tombstone. Going up to him, Father Paisi saw that he was weeping quietly but bitterly, with his face hidden in his hands and that his whole frame was shaking with sobs. Father Paisi stood over him for a little. Enough, dear son, enough, dear, he pronounced with feeling at last. Why do you weep? Rejoice and weep not. Don't you know that this is the greatest of his days? Think only where he is now at this moment.  Maybe it is well, said Father Paisi thoughtfully. Weep if you must. Christ has sent you those tears. Your touching tears are but a relief to your spirit and will serve to gladden your dear heart. He added to himself walking away from Alyasha and thinking lovingly of him. He moved away quickly, however, for he felt that he too might weep looking at him. Meanwhile the time was passing. The monastery services and the requiems for the dead followed in their due course. Father Paisi again took Father Yosef's place by the coffin and began reading the Gospel. But before three o'clock in the afternoon that something took place to which I alluded at the end of the last book, something so unexpected by all of us and so contrary to the general hope that, I repeat, this trivial incident has been minutely remembered to this day in our town and in all the surrounding neighborhood. I may add here, for myself personally, that I feel it almost repulsive to recall that event which caused such frivolous agitation and was such a stumbling block to many, though in reality it was the most natural and trivial matter. I should of course have omitted all mention of it in my story, if it had not exerted a very strong influence on the heart and soul of the chief, though future hero of my story, Alyasha, forming a crisis and turning point in his spiritual development, giving a shock to his intellect which finally strengthened it for the rest of his life and gave it a definite aim. And so to return to our story. When before dawn they laid Father Zasima's body in the coffin and brought it into the front room, the question of opening the windows was raised among those who were around the coffin. But this suggestion made casually by someone was unanswered and almost unnoticed. Some of those present may perhaps have inwardly noticed it only to reflect that the anticipation of decay and corruption from the body of such a saint was an actual absurdity, calling for compassion if not a smile, for the lack of faith and the frivolity it implied, for they expected something quite different. And, behold, soon after midday there were signs of something at first only observed in silence by those who came in and out and were evidently each afraid to communicate the thought in his mind. But by three o'clock those signs had become so clear and unmistakable that the news swiftly reached all the monks and visitors in the hermitage, promptly penetrated to the monastery throwing all the monks into amazement, and finally, in the shortest possible time, spread to the town, exciting everyone in it, believers and unbelievers alike. The unbelievers rejoiced, and as for the believers some of them rejoiced even more than the unbelievers, for men loved the downfall and disgrace of the righteous, as the deceased elder had said in one of his exhortations. The fact is that a smell of decomposition began to come from the coffin, growing gradually more marked, and by three o'clock it was quite unmistakable. In all the past history of our monastery no such scandal could be recalled, and in no other circumstances could such a scandal have been possible, as showed itself in unseemly disorder immediately after this discovery among the very monks themselves. Afterwards, even many years afterwards, some sensible monks were amazed and horrified when they recalled that day that the scandal could have reached such proportions. For in the past, monks of very holy life had died, god-fearing old men, whose saintliness was acknowledged by all, yet from their humble coffins to the breath of corruption had come, naturally, as from all dead bodies, but that had caused no scandal nor even the slightest excitement. Of course there had been, in former times, saints in the monastery whose memory was carefully preserved and whose relics, according to tradition, showed no signs of corruption. This fact was regarded by the monks as touching and mysterious, and the tradition of it was cherished as something blessed and miraculous, and as a promise by God's grace of still greater glory from their tombs in the future. One such, whose memory was particularly cherished, was an old monk, Job, who had died seventy years before at the age of a hundred and five. He had been a celebrated ascetic, rigid in fasting and silence, and his tomb was pointed out to all visitors on their arrival with particular respect and mysterious hints of great hopes connected with it. That was the very tomb on which Father Paisi had found Al-Yasha sitting in the morning. Another memory cherished in the monastery was that of the famous Father Varsonafi, who was only recently dead and had preceded Father Sassima in the eldership. He was reverenced during his lifetime as a crazy saint by all the pilgrims to the monastery. There was a tradition that both of these had lain in their coffins as though alive, that they had shown no signs of decomposition when they were buried, and that there had been a holy light in their faces, and some people even insisted that a sweet fragrance came from their bodies. Yet, in spite of these edifying memories, it would be difficult to explain the frivolity, absurdity, and malice that were manifested beside the coffin of Father Sassima. It is my private opinion that several different causes were simultaneously at work, one of which was the deep-rooted hostility to the institution of elders as a pernicious innovation, an antipathy hidden deep in the hearts of many of the monks. Even more powerful was jealousy of the dead man's saintliness, so firmly established during his lifetime that it was almost a forbidden thing to question it. For though the late elder had won over many hearts more by love than by miracles, and had gathered round him a mass of loving adherents, nonetheless, in fact, rather the more on that account, he had awakened jealousy, and so had come to have bitter enemies, secret and open, not only in the monastery but in the world outside it. He did no one any harm, but why do they think him so saintly? And that question alone, gradually repeated, gave rise at last to an intense insatiable hatred of him. That, I believe, was why many people were extremely delighted at the smell of decomposition which came so quickly, for not a day had passed since his death. At the same time there were some among those who had been hitherto reverently devoted to the elder who were almost mortified and personally affronted by this incident. This was how the thing happened. As soon as signs of decomposition had begun to appear the whole aspect of the monks betrayed their secret motifs in entering the cell. They went in, stayed a little while, and hastened out to confirm the news to the crowd of other monks waiting outside. Some of the latter shook their heads mournfully, but others did not even care to conceal the delight which gleamed unmistakably in their malignant eyes. And now no one reproached them for it. No one raised his voice in protest, which was strange for the majority of the monks had been devoted to the dead elder. But it seemed as though God had in this case let the minority get the upper hand for a time. Visitors from outside, particularly of the educated class, soon went into the cell too, with the same spying intent. Of the peasantry few went into the cell, though there were crowds of them at the gates of the Hermitage. After three o'clock the rush of worldly visitors was greatly increased, and this was no doubt owing to the shocking news. People were attracted who would not otherwise have come on that day, and had not intended to come, and among them were some personages of high standing. But external decorum was still preserved, and Father Paisie, with a stern face, continued firmly and distinctly reading aloud the Gospel, apparently not noticing what was taking place around him, though he had in fact observed something unusual long before. But at last the murmurs, first subdued but gradually louder and more confident, reached even him. It shows God's judgment is not as man's, Father Paisie heard suddenly. The first to give utterance to this sentiment was a layman, an elderly official from the town known to be a man of great piety, but he only repeated aloud what the monks had long been whispering. They had long before formulated this damning conclusion, and the worst of it was that a sort of triumphant satisfaction at that conclusion became more and more apparent every moment. Soon they began to lay aside even external decorum, and almost seemed to feel they had a sort of right to discard it. And for what reason can this have happened, some of the monks said, at first with a show of regret, he had a small frame, and his flesh was dried up on his bones, what was there to decay? It must be a sign from heaven, of his hastened to add, and their opinion was adopted at once without protest, for it was pointed out, too, that if the decomposition had been natural, as in the case of every dead thinner, it would have been apparent later, after a lapse of at least twenty-four hours, but this premature corruption was in excess of nature, and so the finger of God was evident, it was meant for a sign. This conclusion seemed irresistible. Gentle Father Yosef, the librarian, a great favorite of the dead man's, tried to reply to some of the evil speakers that, this is not held everywhere alike, and that the incorruptibility of the bodies of the just was not a dogma of the Orthodox Church, but only an opinion, and that even in the most Orthodox regions, at Athos, for instance, they were not greatly confounded by the smell of corruption, and there the chief sign of the glorification of the saved was not bodily incorruptibility, but the color of the bones when the bodies have leaned many years in the earth, and have decayed in it. And if the bones are yellow as wax, that is the great sign that the Lord has glorified the dead saint, if they are not yellow, but black, it shows that God has not deemed him worthy of such glory. That is the belief in Athos, a great place, where the Orthodox doctrine has been preserved from of old, unbroken, and in its greatest purity, said Father Yosef in conclusion.  That's all pedantry and innovation, no use listening to it. The monks decided. We stick to the old doctrine. There are all sorts of innovations nowadays. Are we to follow them all? Added others. We have had as many Holy Fathers as they had. There they are among the Turks. They have forgotten everything. Their doctrine has long been impure, and they have no bells even. The most sneering added. Father Yosef walked away, grieving the more since he had put forward his own opinion with little confidence as though scarcely believing in it himself. He foresaw with distress that something very unthemely was beginning and that there were positive signs of disobedience. Little by little, all the sensible monks were reduced to silence, like Father Yosef. And so it came to pass that all who loved the elder, and had accepted with devout obedience the institution of the eldership, were all at once terribly cast down and glanced timidly in one another's faces when they met. Those who were hostile to the institution of elders as a novelty held up their heads proudly. There was no smell of corruption from the late elder Varsonofi, but a sweet fragrance, they recalled malignantly. But he gained that glory not because he was an elder, but because he was a holy man. And this was followed by a shower of criticism and even blame of Father Zasima. His teaching was false. He taught that life is a great joy and not avail of tears, said some of the more unreasonable. He followed the fashionable belief.  Others, still more unreasonable, added. He was not strict in fasting, allowed himself sweet things, ate cherry jam with his tea, ladies used to send it to him. Is it for a monk of strict rule to drink tea? Could be heard among some of the envious. He sat in pride, the most malignant declared vindictively. He considered himself a saint, and he took it as his due when people knelt before him. He abused the sacrament of confession, the fiercest opponents of the institution of elders added in a malicious whisper. And among these were some of the oldest monks, strictest in their devotion, genuine aesthetics, who had kept silent during the life of the deceased elder, but now suddenly unsealed their lips. And this was terrible, for their words had great influence on young monks who were not yet firm in their convictions. The monk from Obdorsk heard all this attentively, heaving deep sighs and nodding his head. Yes, clearly Father Farapont was right in his judgment yesterday. And at that moment Father Farapont himself made his appearance as the one purpose to increase the confusion. I have mentioned already that he rarely left his wooden cell by the apiary. He was seldom even seen at church, and they overlooked this neglect on the ground of his craziness, and did not keep him to the rules binding on all the rest. But if the whole truth is to be told, they hardly had a choice about it. For it would have been discreditable to insist on burdening with the common regulations, so great an ascetic, who prayed day and night. He even dropped a sleep on his knees. If they had insisted, the monks would have said, he is holier than all of us, and he follows a rule harder than ours. And if he does not go to church, it's because he knows when he ought to, he has his own rule. It was to avoid the chance of these sinful murmurs that Father Farapont was left in peace. As everyone was aware, Father Farapont particularly disliked Father Sassima, and now the news had reached him in his hut that God's judgment is not the same as man's, and that something had happened which was in excess of nature. It may well be supposed that among the first to run to him with the news was the monk from Obdorsk, who had visited him the evening before and left his cell terror-stricken. I have mentioned above that though Father Paisi, standing firm and immovable, reading the Gospel over the coffin, could not hear nor see what was passing outside the cell, he gauged most of it correctly in his heart, for he knew the men surrounding him well. He was not shaken by it, but awaited what would come next without fear, watching with penetration and insight for the outcome of the general excitement. Suddenly an extraordinary uproar in the passage, in open defiance of decorum, burst on his ears. The door was flung open, and Father Farapont appeared in the doorway. Behind him there could be seen accompanying him a crowd of monks, together with many people from the town. They did not, however, enter the cell, but stood at the bottom of the steps, waiting to see what Father Farapont would say or do. For they felt with a certain awe in spite of their audacity that he had not come for nothing. Standing in the doorway, Father Farapont raised his arms, and under his right arm, the keen inquisitive little eyes of the monk from Obdorsk peeped in. He alone, in his intense curiosity, could not resist running up the steps after Father Farapont. The others, on the contrary, pressed farther back in sudden alarm when the door was noisily flung open. Holding his hands aloft, Father Farapont suddenly roared, Casting out, I cast out, and turning in all directions he began at once making the sign of the cross at each of the four walls and four corners of the cell in succession. All who accompanied Father Farapont immediately understood his action, for they knew he always did this wherever he went, and that he would not sit down or say a word till he had driven out the evil spirits. Satan go hence, Satan go hence, he repeated at each sign of the cross. Casting out, I cast out, he roared again. He was wearing his coarse gown, girt with a rope, his bare chest covered with gray hair could be seen under his hempen shirt, his feet were bare. As soon as he began waving his arms, the cruel irons he wore under his gown could be heard clanking. Father Paisie paused in his reading, stepped forward, and stood before him, waiting. What have you come for, worthy Father? Why do you offend against good order? Why do you disturb the peace of the flock? He said at last, looking sternly at him. What have I come for? You ask. Why? What is your faith? shouted Father Farapont crazily. I've come here to drive out your visitors, the unclean devils. I've come to see how many have gathered here, while I have been away. I want to sweep them out with a birch broom.  And who can say of himself, I am holy? Can you, Father? I am unclean, not holy. I would not sit in an arm-sharing, would not have them bow down to me as an idle, thundered Father Farapont.  He turned to the crowd, pointing with his finger to the coffin. Did not believe in devils. He gave medicine to keep off the devils, and so they have become as common as spiders in the corners. And now he has begun to stink himself. In that we see a great sign from God. The incident he referred to was this. One of the monks was haunted in his dreams and later on in waking moments by visions of evil spirits. When in the utmost terror he confided this to Father Sassima, the elder had advised continual prayer and rigid fasting. But when that was of no use he advised him, while persisting in prayer and fasting, to take a special medicine. Many persons were shocked at the time and wagged their heads as they talked over it, and, most of all, Father Farapont, to whom some of the censorias had hastened to report this extraordinary counsel on the part of the elder. Go away, Father, said Father Paisi, in a commanding voice. It's not for man to judge but for God. Perhaps we see here a sign which neither you nor I nor any one of us is able to comprehend. Go, Father, and do not trouble the flock. He repeated impressively. He did not keep the fasts according to the rule, and therefore the sign has come. That is clear, and it's a sin to hide it. The fanatic carried away by a zeal that outstripped his reason would not be quieted. He was seduced by sweet meats.  He sipped tea. He worshipped his belly, filling it with sweet things, and his mind with haughty thoughts. And for this he is put to shame. You speak lightly, Father. Father Paisi, too, raised his voice.  Go away, Father. I command you. Father Paisi, thundered in conclusion. I will go, said Farrapont, seeming somewhat taken aback, but still as bitter. You learned men.  I came hither with little learning, and here I have forgotten what I did know. God himself has preserved me in my weakness from your subtlety. Father Paisi stood over him, waiting resolutely. Father Farrapont paused and, suddenly leaning his cheek on his hand despondently, pronounced in a sing-song voice, looking at the coffin of the dead elder.   This is a vain place, he shouted suddenly, like a madman, and with the wave of his hand he turned quickly and quickly descended the steps. The crowd awaiting him below wavered. Some followed him at once, and some lingered, for the cell was still open, and Father Paisi, following Father Farrapont onto the steps, stood watching him. But the excited old fanatic was not completely silenced. Walking twenty steps away, he suddenly turned towards the setting sun, raised both his arms, and as though someone had cut him down, fell to the ground with a loud scream. My God has conquered! Christ has conquered the setting sun! He shouted frantically, stretching up his hands to the sun, and, falling face downwards on the ground, he sobbed, like a little child, shaken by his tears and spreading out his arms on the ground. Then all rushed up to him. There were exclamations and sympathetic sobs. A kind of frenzy seemed to take possession of them all.  This is he who should be an elder, others added malignantly. He wouldn't be an elder, he would refuse, he wouldn't serve a cursed innovation, he wouldn't imitate their foolery, other voices chimed in at once. And it is hard to say how far they might have gone, but at that moment the bell rang, summoning them to service. All began crossing themselves at once. Father Farapont too got up and crossing himself went back to his cell, without looking round, still uttering exclamations which were utterly incoherent. A few followed him, but the greater number dispersed, hastening to service. Father Paisi let Father Yosef read in his place and went down. The frantic outcries of bigots could not shake him, but his heart was suddenly filled with melancholy, for some special reason, and he felt that. He stood still and suddenly wondered, why am I sad, even to the ejection? And immediately grasped, with surprise, that his sudden sadness was due to a very small and special cause. In the crowd thronging at the entrance to the cell, he had noticed Alyosha, and he remembered that he had felt at once a pang at heart on seeing him. Can that boy mean so much to my heart now? he asked himself, wondering. At that moment Alyosha passed him, hurrying away, but not in the direction of the church. Their eyes met. Alyosha quickly turned away his eyes and dropped them to the ground, and from the boy's look alone Father Paisi guessed what a great change was taking place in him at that moment. Have you too fallen into temptation? cried Father Paisi. Can you be with those of little faith? he added mournfully. Alyosha stood still and gazed vaguely at Father Paisi, but quickly turned his eyes away again and again looked on the ground. He stood sideways and did not turn his face to Father Paisi, who watched him attentively. Where are you hastening? the bell calls to service, he asked again, but again Alyosha gave no answer. Are you leaving the Hermitage? What, without asking leave, without asking a blessing? Alyosha suddenly gave a wry smile, cast a strange, very strange look at the Father, to whom his former guide, the former sovereign of his heart and mind, his beloved elder, had confided him as he lay dying. And suddenly, still without speaking, waved his hand, as though not caring even to be respectful, and with rapid steps walked towards the gates away from the Hermitage. You will come back again, murmured Father Paisi, looking after him with sorrowful surprise. CHAPTER II A Critical Moment Father Paisi, of course, was not wrong when he decided that his dear boy would come back again. Perhaps indeed, to some extent, he penetrated with insight into the true meaning of Alyosha's spiritual condition. Yet I must frankly own that it would be very difficult for me to give a clear account of that strange, vague moment in the life of the young hero I love so much. To Father Paisi's sorrowful question, are you, too, with those of little faith, I could of course confidently answer for Alyosha, no, he is not with those of little faith. Quite the contrary. Indeed, all his trouble came from the fact that he was of great faith, but still the trouble was there, and was so agonizing that even long afterwards Alyosha thought of that sorrowful day as one of the bitterest and most fatal days of his life. If the question is asked, could all his grief and disturbance have been only due to the fact that his elder's body had shown signs of premature decomposition instead of at once performing miracles, I must answer without beating about the bush. Yes, it certainly was. I would only beg the reader not to be in too great a hurry to laugh at my young hero's pure heart. I am far from intending to apologize for him or to justify his innocent faith on the ground of his youth or the little progress he had made in his studies, or any such reason. I must declare, on the contrary, that I have genuine respect for the qualities of his heart. No doubt a youth who received impressions cautiously, whose love was lukewarm and whose mind was too prudent for his age and so of little value, such a young man might, I admit, have avoided what happened to my hero. But in some cases it is really more creditable to be carried away by an emotion however unreasonable which springs from a great love than to be unmoved. And this is even truer in youth, for a young man who is always sensible is to be suspected and is of little worth. That's my opinion. But reasonable people will exclaim, perhaps, every young man cannot believe in such a superstition and your hero is no model for others. To this I reply again, yes, my hero had faith, a faith holy and steadfast, but still I am not going to apologize for him. Though I declared above, and perhaps too hastily, that I should not explain or justify my hero, I see that some explanation is necessary for the understanding of the rest of my story. Let me say, then, it was not a question of miracles. There was no frivolous and impatient expectation of miracles in his mind, and Alyosha needed no miracles at the time for the triumph of some preconceived idea. Oh, no, not at all. What he saw before all was one figure, the figure of his beloved elder, the figure of that holy man whom he revered with such adoration. The fact is that all the love that lay concealed in his pure young heart for everyone and everything had, for the past year, been concentrated, and perhaps wrongly so, on one being, his beloved elder. It is true that being had for so long been accepted by him as his ideal, that all his young strength and energy could not but turn towards that ideal, even to the forgetting at the moment of everyone and everything. He remembered, afterwards, how, on that terrible day, he had entirely forgotten his brother Dmitry, about whom he had been so anxious and troubled the day before. He had forgotten, too, to take the two hundred rubles to Alyosha's father, though he had so warmly intended to do so the preceding evening. But again it was not miracles he needed but only the higher justice, which had been, in his belief, outraged by the blow that had so suddenly and cruelly wounded his heart. And what does it signify that this justice looked for by Alyosha inevitably took the shape of miracles to be wrought immediately by the ashes of his adored teacher? Why, everyone in the monastery cherished the same thought and the same hope, even those whose intellects Alyosha revered, Father Paesi himself, for instance, and so Alyosha, untroubled by doubts, clothed his dreams, too, in the same form as all the rest. And a whole year of life in the monastery had formed the habit of this expectation in his heart. But it was justice, justice, he thirsted for, not simply miracles. And now the man who should, he believed, have been exalted above everyone in the whole world, that man, instead of receiving the glory that was his due, was suddenly degraded and dishonored. What for? Who had judged him? Who could have decreed this? Those were the questions that wrung his inexperienced and virginal heart. He could not endure without mortification, without resentment even, that the holiest of holy men should have been exposed to the jeering and spiteful mockery of the frivolous crowd so inferior to him. Even had there been no miracles, had there been nothing marvellous to justify his hopes, why this indignity, why this humiliation, why this premature decay in excess of nature, as the spiteful monks said? Why this sign from heaven, which they so triumphantly acclaimed in company with Father Farrapont, and why did they believe they had gained the right to acclaim it? Where is the finger of Providence? Why did Providence hide its face at the most critical moment? So Al-Yasha thought it, as though voluntarily submitting to the blind, dumb, pitiless laws of nature. That was why Al-Yasha's heart was bleeding, and of course, as I have said already, the sting of it all was that the man he loved above everything on earth should be put to shame and humiliated. This murmuring may have been shallow and unreasonable in my hero, but I repeat again for the third time, and am prepared to admit that it might be difficult to defend my feeling, I am glad that my hero showed himself not too reasonable at that moment. For any man of sense will always come back to reason in time, but if love does not gain the upper hand in a boy's heart at such an exceptional moment, when will it? I will not, however, omit to mention something strange, which came for a time to the surface of Al-Yasha's mind at this fatal and obscure moment. This new something was the harassing impression left by the conversation with Yvonne, which now persistently haunted Al-Yasha's mind. At this moment it haunted him. Oh, it was not that something of the fundamental, elemental, so to speak, faith of his soul had been shaken, he loved his God and believed in him steadfastly, though he was suddenly murmuring against him. Yet a vague but tormenting and evil impression left by his conversation with Yvonne the day before suddenly revived again now in his soul and seemed forcing its way to the surface of his consciousness. It had begun to get dusk when Raketen, crossing the pine cops from the hermitage to the monastery, suddenly noticed Al-Yasha lying face downwards on the ground under a tree, not moving and apparently asleep. He went up and called him by his name. You hear, Alexei, can you have—he began wondering but broke off, he had meant to say—can you have come to this? Al-Yasha did not look at him, but from a slight movement Raketen at once saw that he heard and understood him. What's the matter? he went on, but the surprise in his face gradually passed into a smile that became more and more ironical. I say, I've been looking for you for the last two hours. You suddenly disappeared. What are you about? What foolery is this? You might just look at me. Al-Yasha raised his head, sat up, and leaned his back against the tree. He was not crying, but there was a look suffering and irritability in his face. He did not look at Raketen, however, but looked away to one side of him.  There's none of your famous mildness to be seen in it.  Have they been ill-treating you? Let me alone, said Al-Yasha suddenly, with the weary gesture of his hand still looking away from him. Oh, so that's how we are feeling. So you can shout at people like other mortals. That is a come-down from the angels. I say, Al-Yasha, you have surprised me, do you hear? I mean it. It's long since I've been surprised at anything here. I always took you for an educated man. Al-Yasha at last looked at him, but vaguely as those scarcely understanding what he said. Can you really be so upset simply because your old man has begun to stink? He don't mean to say you seriously believed that he was going to work miracles, exclaimed Raketen, genuinely surprised again. I believed. I believe. I want to believe. And I will believe. What more do you want? cried Al-Yasha irritably. Nothing at all, my boy. Damn it all. Why, no schoolboy of thirteen believes in that now. But there. So now you are in a temper with your God. You are rebelling against him. He hasn't given promotion. He hasn't bestowed the order of merit.  Al-Yasha gazed a long while, with his eyes half closed at Raketen. And there was a sudden gleam in his eyes. But not of anger with Raketen. I am not rebelling against my God. I simply don't accept his world. Al-Yasha suddenly smiled a forced smile. How do you mean you don't accept the world? Raketen thought a moment over his answer. What idiocy is this? Al-Yasha did not answer. Come, enough nonsense. Now to business.  I don't remember. I think I have. You need keeping up to judge by your face. It makes one sorry to look at you. You didn't sleep all night either, I hear. You had a meeting in there. And then all this bobbery afterwards. Most likely you've had nothing to eat but a mouthful of holy bread. I've got some sausage in my pocket. I've brought it from the town in case of need.  Give me some. I say you are going it. Why, it's a regular mutiny with barricades. Well, my boy, we must make the most of it. Come to my place. I shouldn't mind a drop of vodka myself. I'm tired to death. Vodka is going too far for you, I suppose. Or would you like some? Give me some vodka too. Hello, you surprised me, brother. Raketan looked at him in amazement. Well, one way or another, vodka or sausage, this is a jolly fine chance and mustn't be missed. Come along. Alyasha got up in silence and followed Raketan. If your little brother Ivan could see this, wouldn't he be surprised? By the way, your brother Ivan set off to Moscow this morning. Did you know? Yes, answered Alyasha listlessly, and suddenly the image of his brother Dmitry rose before his mind. But only for a minute, and though it reminded him of something that must not be put off for a moment, some duty, some terrible obligation, even that reminder made no impression on him, did not reach his heart and instantly faded out of his mind and was forgotten. But a long while afterwards Alyasha remembered this. Your brother Ivan declared once that I was a liberal booby with no talents whatsoever. Once you too could not resist letting me know I was dishonorable. Well, I should like to see what your talents and sense of honour will do for you now. This phrase Raketan finished to himself in a whisper. Listen, he said aloud, let's go by the path beyond the monastery straight to the town. Hmm, I ought to go to Madam Holikovs, by the way. Only fancy, I've written to tell her everything that happened, and would you believe it, she answered me instantly in pencil, the lady has a passion for writing notes, that she would never have expected such conduct from a man of such a reverent character as Father Zasima. That was her very word, conduct. She is angry too.  Stay! he cried suddenly again. He suddenly stopped, and taking Alyasha by the shoulder made him stop too. Do you know Alyasha? He peeped inquisitively into his eyes, absorbed in a sudden new thought which had dawned on him, and though he was laughing outwardly, he was evidently afraid to utter that new idea aloud, so difficult he still found it to believe in the strange and unexpected mood in which he now saw Alyasha. Alyasha, do you know where we had better go? He brought out at last timidly and insinuatingly. I don't care where you like. Let's go to Grushenko, eh? Will you come? pronounced Raketen at last, trembling with timid suspense. Let's go to Grushenko. Alyasha answered calmly at once, and this prompt and calm agreement was such a surprise to Raketen that he almost started back. Well, I say, he cried in amazement, but seizing Alyasha firmly by the arm he led him along the path, still dreading that he would change his mind. They walked along in silence, Raketen was positively afraid to talk. And how glad she will be, how delighted, he muttered, but lapsed into silence again. And indeed it was not to please Grushenko he was taking Alyasha to her. He was a practical person, and never undertook anything without a prospect of gain for himself. His object in this case was twofold. First, a revengeful desire to see the downfall of the righteous and Alyasha's fall from the saints to the sinners, over which he was already gloating in his imagination. And in the second place he had in view a certain material gain for himself, of which more will be said later. So the critical moment has come, he thought to himself with spiteful glee, and we shall catch it on the hop for it's just what we want.


مرحباً مرحباً أنا أحسن سأتحدث with you today about what teaching spots are and let me ask you first before we start when you see the word spots what's the first thing that comes to your mind yeah you may think of circles you may think of batches of colors what about circles when you see circles or when you hear the word circles what's the first thing that comes to your mind things that come together collaboration cooperation so what if the circles collect together or come together they would have lots of cooperation and collaboration so that's what we are going to speak about today hot teaching spots how can we as teachers help each other in gaining professional development and let me start first with the most important question what is professional development let me give you choices do you think is it reading the latest teaching magazines is it the assessment and the evaluation of students progress is it the acquisition of skills and knowledge is it the progress achieved by teacher in teaching students which one do you think is the most suitable let me give you 2 seconds to think it over do you think it can be the reading the latest teaching magazines do you think this is going to achieve enough professional development what about assessment and evaluation does assessment or evaluation is it considered a kind of professional development for the teacher so the answer is it's the acquisition of skills and knowledge that's the most important thing about professional development it doesn't only improve our knowledge but it also adds to our skills so the next question which comes after this question what is professional development why is it necessary for us why is it necessary for any professional why is professional development that important well yes it's both for personal and development and for career advancement we have to develop ourselves on our skills and at the same time we always look for better jobs better promotions so in order to achieve get better promotions we should develop our skills and extend our experience so that we would be able to help others and perfect our work at the same time professional development is very important also because it improves your skills increase your value to your organization for sure when we have a highly organized a highly developed skillfully developed person and he has good experience and at the same time he is a talented employee or a talented teacher for sure this would increase your value to organization and enhance your future career prospects it would offer you the chance to get better jobs in better places so let's ask ourselves also another question do all schools offer the right kind of professional development for teachers if you take a look at this article from we are teachers website you will find that we have here ins and outs about professional development when teachers get guided teachers get guided professional development learning networks they join different learning networks they mix with in person sessions classroom observations means they get involved in classroom observations they have hands on experience in different workshops they view core skills as the responsibility of educators viewing core skills no matter the subjects they teach they view different subjects for different teachers to gain different different skills from these different teachers it's a different kind of experience that observing other peers would add a lot to your your skills as a teacher and your talent as a teacher for sure you are going to find something good or something that you don't like about the other teachers so how do you see it and then how is this going to help you to develop yourself better as a teacher and how to develop yourself also at the same time there are some flexible courses that give teachers open-ended strategies for meeting the standards they help but also allow a lot of originality lots of flexible courses they ask teachers to apply what they learn in classes and they are observed to see what are the advantages and disadvantages of this in schools in their own classes all this is in contrast with other professional development topics chosen by the principal of the entire faculty of course this does not personalize the professional development and does not give the teachers the chance to choose what they really like to develop sometimes the school sees something and the teacher sees something else and they don't get along and the teacher doesn't benefit enough from the training and at the same time the students are not going to benefit as well a handful of in-person professional development sessions over the course of a year often covering unrelated topics this is one of the most irritating problems for teachers in schools sometimes they are forced to attend these different kinds of sessions and they are not related at all or they are not practical enough or they know it already so they benefit nothing it's just a waste of time professional development delivered lecture style just to give a lecture and it's not interactive you send English teachers to reading and writing workshops and math teachers to multiplication ones in other words they are highly highly unpractical sessions and so the teachers gain nothing as students do in school and they don't benefit anything and when we have time for these sessions that ignore state benchmarks and creative stripping trainings that focus on nothing but bubble tests unfortunately some some training sessions they just train the teachers how to become to train their students better to get better marks that's it and so in which case the teachers do not benefit from this it's a state of school the teachers remain the same and they gain nothing in the end so if we put the pros and cons together of professional development it's one of the most important things is that we should personalize professional development so that the teachers would be eager enough in order to do professional development and at the same time think how to do it in the best possible way let's move ahead with the next section let's ask ourselves how can we pursue professional development if we say that we as individuals not as schools we want to have professional development how can we do it how do you think what are the different kinds of ways that the teachers can follow in order to gain professional development let me suggest a few ways first of all case study methods are very effective if you go it's a personal experience I myself used to read lots of case studies from different countries applying different methods of teaching or teaching projects in different countries in the world and what were the results in the end and what's the reflections about these results they helped the teachers teachers to gain lots of information lots of experience through reading these study cases and analyzing them another point also is consultation you can ask your supervisor and older colleague people whom you trust and you believe that they have enough experience that can help you to tell you what ways to track in order to be able to achieve professional development also one of the interesting ways is coaching this coaching has been followed in the last few years in number of schools around the world where an older teacher super mentors another younger teacher and sometimes they work together the younger teacher works beside the older teacher in order to observe what he or she is doing and gain more experience from this also we have communities of practice groups of teachers they practice they read for example different articles together they do explain different kinds of lessons in front of each other so the group the group of teachers is going to comment on the pros and cons of lessons explained and so the teachers gain in depth into their own teaching lesson study also to analyze different lessons from videos let's say on YouTube or taped videos in different places lesson study is very important the analysis of these lessons are very very important the teacher in this case we turn the teacher into a teacher researcher the teacher studies the lesson what's the objective of the lesson what are the steps followed what are the games played by the teacher in class in order to make lesson fun what about the homework what about writing in class what about the revision different kinds of steps that can be analyzed through different lessons mentoring which is one of the most beautiful ways of professional development when you have a much much older teacher and you consider this teacher is your senior guardian and this teacher is going to help you to make a professional development plan for yourself is going to follow you up and tell you you are doing this right this is wrong what do you think of this what do you think of that and you go back to the teacher this senior teacher every now and then it helps a lot with lots of teachers like this very much this can be done in different ways not necessarily to have the same senior teacher and in different school a person whom you trust let's say your own model for teaching for you another one is reflective supervision also you can ask your peers to come to your class watch your classes and give you their observation about what you do in class technical assistance of course you can get this through your supervisor of the department these are wonderful some of the wonderful ways that you can use for personal professional development let me ask you about another another question do you think that professional development should be done on individual or group basis and why individual basis is important you have to start you have to have the initiative but at the same time if you can do it with a group this is more motivating and it gives you much better ideas than just to have your own idea alone so professional development in a group is much more effective but again the individual one is very important let us this makes us wonder this idea of having professional development is very important for us maybe because we have read a lot we have got in contact with the internet a lot because we live in urban areas but what about the people we live in poor areas in the urban areas also in poor parts of the cities or people who have no facilities at all what about teachers who have no facilities no supervision or live in rural areas what can we do about these people as I have just told you I'm sorry those people need people to help sometimes we find people from these different places telling us please come we have no facilities we have nothing want somebody to help us just give us ideas track us the way tell us what to do because the city is very far from us and is very ghosty and we don't know what to do so here in Egypt since I've been in the teaching profession for lots of years over 30 years in fact we have thought of an idea that can help people in different places even people who live in good places what to do lots of people seek professional development but they don't know how to do it it's not easy for them to have a mentor or even a coach so we came up with a new idea why not form an online network among Egyptian English language teachers that's why we thought we can do it first online and we started with the Egyptian teachers since we know that lots of Egyptians really are in need of this idea of professional development so we came up with this idea of we started thinking of this idea because we believe it's a community responsibility it's not an individual responsibility we should share together collaborate together in trying to solve this idea why not ask people from teachers from different places to join us in order to help in this kind of development so we came up with this idea of our community we started thinking why don't we get down to the teachers in schools whether private or governmental and call them for professional development and help them sustain a lifelong one the idea itself to go to these places to these schools and call the people for professional development when we started it was a big challenge because lots of people say we don't have time during the school year and even in the summer vacation we have to take the kids to the summer resort or we have to stay home so it was a great challenge for us not to call people and convince them of the importance of professional development but also to sustain it as a lifelong one we believe that professional development should start with the teacher should start with the teacher or herself it has to be personalized you have to be convinced as a teacher of the importance of professional development it has to be blended means I have to use different ways as we said before we have coaching we have mentoring we have lesson study different things workshops to attend it has to be blended to get as much benefit collaboration share together as a group of teachers this kind of professional development it has to be supportive somebody has to support you whether the school, the administration the head of department, your friends your colleagues you have to be supported by someone to help you give you motivation to go ahead and to be on going be motivated all the time motivate yourself all the time that you have to go on with professional development and never to give up whatever happens and sometimes the people they like to apply it but sometimes it's a failure and they get nowhere so they believe there is no need for professional development I forget about it I won't apply anything but you have to keep on trying and trying and think of different ways let's think of the whole story as if we have a child who is a slow learner or a child who has learning difficulties are you going to leave him or are you going to check for different ways to help him so that's the idea we have to track different ways to help not only ourselves but our students who are the final goal of this kind of professional development this is a nice idea was said through intel.com it's you next thing how did we start our community we started of having this kind of training community we started first with courses and workshops and then when we started attracting people's attention through the internet and through these courses and workshops we started having a number of programs that would help us help teachers be convinced of the importance of professional development we started convincing people to come to weekly discussions the teachers come from different schools to attend discussions about any topics concerning teaching we do it once a week on the last day of the school last school day of the week which is Thursday for us here and then we started inviting teachers to come to internship programs the teachers would spend with us three months we would help them get their professional level evaluated help them have a plan for professional development attend professional development sessions for two weeks attend all weekly discussions and we have also the teaching club which I'm going to speak about after that and then they would get their professional development level after three months evaluated and they get the certificate for that this was one of the programs that attracted a number of teachers we had two groups of teachers and they joined in these two internships and the best thing about these internships is that the teachers start reflecting this on what they do in classes and they start thinking of the problems that they have and they were looking for answers for them but with no success another thing that we do also is that the teaching club we have this event on the last Saturday of every month and we invite three distinguished speakers from different places and we have people face-to-face or we have people distinguished people online like for example we had Dr. William Koch we had Vicky Hallett we had Scott Thornbury and we had Adrian Underhill the teachers enjoyed speaking to those people online and that was so exciting in addition to the teaching club we also have this networking scheme we are in touch with lots of people around the world not only in Egypt but around the world as well through our network of MAHA ESL Training Community we set different posts online that help teachers with professional development and at the same time help in communication with teachers with different experiences around the world and this is our Facebook page and group if you'd like to join us here we have a number of pictures of some of the events that we have already arranged so far we have arranged eight teaching clubs and lots of weekly discussions and at the same time we are having our internship program we are trying to get to as many teachers as many schools as possible in order to be able to spread the belief in long life professional development and enjoy the photos


So the Potomac Flight is, this is the first year we're running it, 2014. We're going to put 25 T-6s in a large formation, launching out of Culpeper Airport here in Virginia. Then we're going to form the formation up, fly up over the airspace of DC. All the pilots that are coming are owners and operators of their own airplanes. They're all privately owned and maintained. It speaks volumes of what they think of the DAV, and we hope to help the DAV put this message out there. So there's a lot of veterans who aren't aware of the services, the benefits that they were entitled to, and DAV provides free assistance to help them get through the kind of complicated process to get their benefits. We also focus on employment, we have a great volunteer program that gets veterans to and from hospital appointments and gives a public a chance to give back and show veterans that they care and they're grateful for their service. The DAV saved my life and I know them a lot already. It just becomes more and more of a great experience that they have afforded me. It took us about five months of planning and coordination with the FAA and TSA, and a mountain of paperwork, but I must say that the FAA and TSA were very cooperative. They're all patriots, they want to see this happen as much as we do. And I think it's a fantastic way to help recognize what the DAV does, all the support they give to their 1.3 million members. It's an exciting opportunity for us, it gets our message out, lets veterans know about the free services we offer, and we're grateful for the people at CulpUp or AirFest for making this possible.


The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson Story of the Door Mr. Utterson, the lawyer, was a man of a rugged countenance that was never lighted by a smile, cold, scanty and embarrassed in discourse, lean, long, dusty, dreary, and yet somehow lovable. He was austere with himself, drank gin when he was alone, and though he enjoyed the theatre, had not crossed the doors of one for twenty years, but he had an approved tolerance for others. I inclined to Cain's heresy, used to say quaintly, I let my brother go to the devil in his own way. In this character it was frequently his fortune to be the last reputable acquaintance and the last good influence in the lives of down-going men, and to such as these, so long as they came about his chambers, he never marked a shade of change in his demeanour. No doubt the feat was easy to Mr. Utterson, for he was undemonstrative at the best, and even his friendships seemed to be founded in a similar catholicity of good nature. It is the mark of a modest man to accept his friendly circle already made from the hands of opportunity, and that was the lawyer's way. His friends were those of his own blood, or those whom he had known the longest. Hence no doubt the bond that united him to Mr. Richard Enfield, his distant kinsman, the well-known man about town. It was a nut to crack for many what these two men could see in each other, or what subject they could find in common. It was reported by those who encountered them in their Sunday walks that they said nothing looked singularly dull, and would hail with obvious relief the appearance of a friend. For all that the two men put the greatest store by these excursions. It chanced on one of these rambles that their way led them down a by-street in a busy quarter of London. The street, even on Sunday, shone out in contrast to its dingy neighbourhood like a fire in a forest, and with its freshly painted shutters, well-polished brasses and general cleanliness and gaiety of note, instantly caught and pleased the eye of the passenger. Two doors from one corner on the left hand going east, the line was broken by the entry of a court, and just at that point a certain sinister block of building thrust forward its gable on the street. It was two storeys high, showed no window, nothing but a door on the lower storey, and a blind forehead of discoloured wall on the upper, and bore in every feature the marks of prolonged and sordid negligence. The door, which was equipped with neither bell nor knocker, was blistered and disdained, tramps slouched into the recess and struck matches on the panels, children kept shop upon the steps, the schoolboy had tried his knife on the mouldings, and for close honour generation no one had appeared to drive away these random visitors or to repair their ravages. Mr. Enfield and the lawyer were on the other side of the street, but when they came abreast of the entry the former lifted up his cane and pointed, Did you ever remark that door? he asked, and when his companion had replied in the affirmative, it is connected in my mind, added he, with a very odd story. Indeed, said Mr. Utterson, and what was that? Well, it was this way, returned Mr. Enfield. I was coming home about three o'clock of a black winter morning, and my way lay through a part of town where there was literally nothing to be seen but lamps, street after street, and all the folks asleep, street after street, all lighted up as if for a procession, and all as empty as a church. All at once I saw two figures, one a little man who was stumping along eastward at a good walk, and the other a girl of maybe eight or ten who was running as hard as she was able down across street. Well, sir, the two ran into one another, naturally enough at the corner, and then came the horrible part of the thing, where the man trampled calmly over the child's body and left her screaming on the ground. It sounds nothing to hear, but it was hellish to see. It wasn't like a man, it was like some damned juggernaut. I gave a view hello, took to my heels, collared my gentlemen, and brought him back to where there was already quite a group about the screaming child. He was perfectly cool and made no resistance, but gave me one look, so... Complete. Ready to continue?