Though I may be following the devil, I am Thy son,
Lord, and I love Thee, and I feel throughout me
that joy without which the world could not be
there. . . .'

Or like Ivan Karamazov :

'. . . Though I may not believe in the order of the
universe, yet I cherish the sticky Uttle leaves in
spring. ... I know that I am going to a grave-
yard, but it is a most precious graveyard : precious
are the dead that he there, every stone over them
speaks of such burning hfe in the past, of such pas-
sionate faith in their work, their truth, their
struggle, and their science, that I know I shall fall
on the ground and kiss those stones and weep over
them; though I am convinced in my heart that it's
long been nothing but a graveyard. And I shall
not weep from despair, but simply because I shall
be happy in my tears, I shall steep my soul in
emotion. . . .'

The graveyard thus alluded to by Ivan is the
world of his education abroad. The Romance
' precious dead ' might be surprised with such a



154 THE RUSSIANS AND THEIR LANGUAGE

passionate attitude towards them of a man of
twenty-three ! He is not shy to express it.
