Sanine

Soloveitchik wrung his hands.

"Oh! you cannot imagine how it distresses me to hear this!" he

exclaimed.

"Really, Soloveitchik, you're quite hysterical," said Sanine, in

surprise. "I have not told you anything extraordinary. Possibly the

subject is, to you, a painful one?"

"Oh! most painful. I am always thinking, thinking, till my head seems

as if it would burst. Was all that really an error, nothing more? I

grope about, as in a dark room, and there is no one to tell me what I

ought to do. Why do we live? Tell me that."

"Why? That nobody knows."

"And should we not live for the future, so that later on, at least,

mankind may have a golden age?"

"There will never be a golden age. If the world and mankind could

become better all in a moment, then, perhaps, a golden age would be

possible. But that cannot be. Progress towards improvement is slow, and

man can only see the step in front of him, and that immediately behind

him. You and I have not lived the life of a Roman slave, nor that of

some savage of the Stone Age, and therefore we cannot appreciate the

boon of our civilization. Thus, if there should ever be a golden age,

the men of that period will not perceive any difference between their

lives and those of their ancestors. Man moves along an endless road,

and to wish to level the road to happiness would be like adding new

units to a number that is infinite."

"Then you believe that it all means nothing--that all is of no avail?"

"Yes, that is what I think."

"But what about your friend Lande? You yourself were--"

"I loved Lande," said Sanine gravely, "not because he was a Christian,

but because he was sincere, and never swerved from his path, being

undaunted by obstacles either ridiculous or formidable. It was as a

personality that I prized Lande. When he died, his worth ceased to

exist."

"And don't you think that such men have an ennobling influence upon

life? Might not such men have followers or disciples?"

"Why should life be ennobled? Tell me that, first of all. And,

secondly, one doesn't want disciples. Men like Lande are born so.

Christ was splendid; Christians, however, are but a sorry crew. The

idea of his doctrine was a beautiful one, but they have made of it a

lifeless dogma."

Tired with talking, Sanine said no more. Soloveitchik remained silent

also. There was great stillness around them, while overhead the stars

seemed to maintain a conversation wordless and unending. Then

Soloveitchik suddenly whispered something that sounded so weird that

Sanine, shuddering, exclaimed: "What's that you said?"