_ XII
AFTER having got rid of the coupon, Eugene Mihailovich forgot all about it;
but his wife, Maria Vassilievna, could not forgive herself for having
been taken in, nor yet her husband for his cruel words. And most of all
she was furious against the two boys who had so skilfully cheated her.
From the day she had accepted the forged coupon as payment, she looked
closely at all the schoolboys who came in her way in the streets.
One day she met Mahin, but did not recognise him, for on seeing her he made
a face which quite changed his features. But when, a fortnight after
the incident with the coupon, she met Mitia Smokovnikov face to face,
she knew him at once.
She let him pass her, then turned back and followed him,
and arriving at his house she made inquiries as to whose son he was.
The next day she went to the school and met the divinity instructor,
the priest Michael Vedensky, in the hall. He asked her what she wanted.
She answered that she wished to see the head of the school.
"He is not quite well," said the priest. "Can I be of any use to you,
or give him your message?"
Maria Vassilievna thought that she might as well tell the priest what was
the matter. Michael Vedensky was a widower, and a very ambitious man.
A year ago he had met Mitia Smokovnikov's father in society, and had
had a discussion with him on religion. Smokovnikov had beaten him
decisively on all points; indeed, he had made him appear quite ridiculous.
Since that time the priest had decided to pay special attention
to Smokovnikov's son; and, finding him as indifferent to religious
matters as his father was, he began to persecute him, and even brought
about his failure in examinations.
When Maria Vassilievna told him what young Smokovnikov had done
to her, Vedensky could not help feeling an inner satisfaction.
He saw in the boy's conduct a proof of the utter wickedness
of those who are not guided by the rules of the Church.
He decided to take advantage of this great opportunity
of warning unbelievers of the perils that threatened them.
At all events, he wanted to persuade himself that this was the only
motive that guided him in the course he had resolved to take.
But at the bottom of his heart he was only anxious to get
his revenge on the proud atheist.
"Yes, it is very sad indeed," said Father Michael, toying with
the cross he was wearing over his priestly robes, and passing
his hands over its polished sides. "I am very glad you have
given me your confidence. As a servant of the Church I shall
admonish the young man--of course with the utmost kindness.
I shall certainly do it in the way that befits my holy office,"
said Father Michael to himself, really thinking that he had
forgotten the ill-feeling the boy's father had towards him.
He firmly believed the boy's soul to be the only object
of his pious care.
The next day, during the divinity lesson which Father Michael
was giving to Mitia Smokovnikov's class, he narrated the incident
of the forged coupon, adding that the culprit had been one of the
pupils of the school. "It was a very wicked thing to do," he said;
"but to deny the crime is still worse. If it is true that the sin
has been committed by one of you, let the guilty one confess."
In saying this, Father Michael looked sharply at Mitia Smokovnikov.
All the boys, following his glance, turned also to Mitia, who blushed,
and felt extremely ill at ease, with large beads of perspiration on
his face. Finally, he burst into tears, and ran out of the classroom.
His mother, noticing his trouble, found out the truth, ran at once
to the photographer's shop, paid over the twelve roubles and fifty kopeks
to Maria Vassilievna, and made her promise to deny the boy's guilt.
She further implored Mitia to hide the truth from everybody,
and in any case to withhold it from his father.
Accordingly, when Fedor Mihailovich had heard of the incident
in the divinity class, and his son, questioned by him, had denied
all accusations, he called at once on the head of the school,
told him what had happened, expressed his indignation at Father
Michael's conduct, and said he would not let matters remain
as they were.
Father Michael was sent for, and immediately fell into a hot
dispute with Smokovnikov.
"A stupid woman first falsely accused my son, then retracts her accusation,
and you of course could not hit on anything more sensible to do than
to slander an honest and truthful boy!"
"I did not slander him, and I must beg you not to address me in such a way.
You forget what is due to my cloth."
"Your cloth is of no consequence to me."
"Your perversity in matters of religion is known to everybody in the town!"
replied Father Michael; and he was so transported with anger that his long
thin head quivered.
"Gentlemen! Father Michael!" exclaimed the director of the school,
trying to appease their wrath. But they did not listen to him.
"It is my duty as a priest to look after the religious and moral
education of our pupils."
"Oh, cease your pretence to be religious! Oh, stop all this
humbug of religion! As if I did not know that you believe
neither in God nor Devil."
"I consider it beneath my dignity to talk to a man like you,"
said Father Michael, very much hurt by Smokovnikov's last words,
the more so because he knew they were true.
Michael Vedensky carried on his studies in the academy for priests,
and that is why, for a long time past, he ceased to believe in what
he confessed to be his creed and in what he preached from the pulpit;
he only knew that men ought to force themselves to believe in what he tried
to make himself believe.
Smokovnikov was not shocked by Father Michael's conduct; he only thought it
illustrative of the influence the Church was beginning to exercise on society,
and he told all his friends how his son had been insulted by the priest.
Seeing not only young minds, but also the elder generation,
contaminated by atheistic tendencies, Father Michael became more
and more convinced of the necessity of fighting those tendencies.
The more he condemned the unbelief of Smokovnikov,
and those like him, the more confident he grew in the firmness
of his own faith, and the less he felt the need of making
sure of it, or of bringing his life into harmony with it.
His faith, acknowledged as such by all the world around him,
became Father Michael's very best weapon with which to fight
those who denied it.
The thoughts aroused in him by his conflict with Smokovnikov,
together with the annoyance of being blamed by his chiefs in
the school, made him carry out the purpose he had entertained ever
since his wife's death--of taking monastic orders, and of following
the course carried out by some of his fellow-pupils in the academy.
One of them was already a bishop, another an archimandrite and on
the way to become a bishop.
At the end of the term Michael Vedensky gave up his post in the school,
took orders under the name of Missael, and very soon got a post as rector
in a seminary in a town on the river Volga. _