Sanine

"I believe that God exists," continued Sanine, "though I am not

certain, absolutely certain. But whether He does or not, I do not know

Him, nor can I tell what He requires of me. How could I possibly know

this, even though I professed the most ardent faith in Him? God is God,

and, not being human, cannot be judged by human standards. His created

world around us contains all; good and evil, life and death, beauty and

ugliness--everything, in fact, and thus all sense and all exact

definition are lost to us, for His sense is not human, nor His ideas of

good and evil human, either. Our conception of God must always be an

idolatrous one, and we shall always give to our fetish the physiognomy

and the garb suitable to the climatic conditions of the country in

which we live. Absurd, isn't it."

"Yes, you're right," grunted Ivanoff, "quite right!"

"Then, what is the good of living?" asked Yourii, as he pushed back his

glass in disgust, "or of dying, either?"

"One thing I know," replied Sanine, "and that is, that I don't want my

life to be a miserable one. Thus, before all things, one must satisfy

one's natural desires. Desire is everything. When a man's desires

cease, his life ceases, too, and if he kills his desires, then he kills

himself."

"But his desires may be evil?"

"Possibly."

"Well, what then."

"Then ... they must just be evil," replied Sanine blandly, as he looked

Yourii full in the face with his clear, blue eyes.

Ivanoff raised his eyebrows incredulously and said nothing. Yourii was

silent also. For some reason or other he felt embarrassed by those

clear, blue eyes, though he tried to keep looking at them.

For a few moments there was complete silence, so that one could plainly

hear a night-moth desperately beating against the window-pane. Peter

Ilitsch shook his head mournfully, and his drink-besotted visage

drooped towards the stained, dirty newspaper. Sanine smiled again. This

perpetual smile irritated and yet fascinated Yourii.

"What clear eyes he has!" thought he.

Suddenly Sanine rose, opened the window, and let out the moth. A wave

of cool, pleasant air, as from soft wings, swept through the room.

"Yes," said Ivanoff, in answer to his own thought, "there are no two

men alike, so, on the strength of that, let's have another drink."

"No." said Yourii, shaking his head, "I won't have any more."