Chapter 15

"Well then, tell me, where are we going and what have you conceived?" Henry finally asked when he and Konstantin found their compartment on the train. One could reach this village by minibus as well, but Henry had suggested the train to Konstantin, and he offered no particular resistance.

"Do you remember I had a conversation with your doctor?" Kostya waited for Henry's affirmative nod and continued, "I must confess I derived no particular pleasure from that conversation, but that is beside the point... she informed me that they had one patient who constantly spoke of a certain society. I believe he was the one who lost this statute I found, the one I gave you to read."

"So you simply cannot rest with this society business. Very well, and what is the name of this presumed member of the society, and where shall we look for him?" asked Henry.

"Vasily Gavrish. He is a Doctor of Physical and Mathematical Sciences and currently resides at a monastery in the village where we are headed. And I shall never rest. Henry, I am in despair; this idea is the only thing sustaining me now. I did not choose life, but life chose me—permit me, then, to act according to my own judgment." And after a brief pause, Kostya asked, "Well then, what do you think?"

"In any case, we must speak with him first. And then we shall see. So you say he's a Doctor of Sciences—no wonder he lost his mind," Henry supposed, as though forgetting that scarcely a week had passed since he himself had been lying in a psychiatric hospital.

"Do not speak like a psychiatrist. That is precisely what is strange. I have read his works; all his suppositions remain within the bounds of already established theories. He has written textbooks for schools and universities, explaining his subject in clear, comprehensible human language—nothing obscure or unclear. People with such a lucid manner of thinking do not lose their minds," Konstantin declared tirelessly.

"Since when do you read contemporary scientific books?" Henry asked in surprise.

"Henry, you were in the hospital for more than four weeks; I managed to change somewhat during that time, especially since I found the statute. You cannot even imagine how much I know now. I wanted to tell you while still at the hospital, but decided to postpone it," Konstantin boasted.

Throughout the entire journey, Kostya could not cease expounding upon certain theories he deemed necessary. Henry was more inclined toward the humanities, but nevertheless listened with interest to discussions of quantum physics and the biographies of several famous mathematicians.

What can be more beautiful than a village in late spring? Grass and trees everywhere. Forests merging with the blue sky, fresh air, the fragrance of flowers, green mountains—one of which Konstantin and Henry were now climbing. In the village of Dubrava there was only one large monastery, and it had been built upon a mountain. To reach the gates at the entrance to the holy ground, the friends had to exert some effort.

They crossed the boundary between two "worlds," and walking a little further, found themselves beneath a stone arch, beyond which lay a small courtyard. The courtyard was enclosed by the monastery walls. From the door on the right past the arch emerged an elderly man with short grey hair on his head, a grey beard, and matching mustache.

"Good day," Konstantin hastily greeted the monk.

"Good day. How may I be of service?" the grey-haired man inquired in a quiet, calm voice.

"We are interns from a psychiatric hospital. We have been assigned to evaluate the condition of one of the patients who was treated at our hospital. We were told that here we might find a man named Vasily Gavrish. For preventive purposes, we must ask him several questions. We very much beg your assistance; without this we cannot pass our practicum," Konstantin narrated, composing his false story on the spot. "To think what I have come to—lying to a monk on holy ground. Though I could have told the truth, albeit with somewhat less probability of success."

"Yes... Vasily is with us. He is doing very well here. He does not much like to recall those days, but I think he will help you," the monk agreed, gesturing for them to follow him. He led them across the entire courtyard and on the opposite side invited them to enter through a door. The friends found themselves in a long corridor with a domed ceiling and a carpet on the floor. Something in this interior reminded Konstantin of the interior of the Philosophy and Theology Department at the university. Although he had been there only once, he remembered well this architectural style—Empire.

They walked along the corridor until the monk stopped and invited them to wait, disappearing through a door. No more than ten minutes passed. And the familiar monk emerged with another man dressed in the same garments.

"This is Vasily, whom you seek," the familiar grey-haired monk introduced the younger man. "And now I beg your pardon, but I must leave you." The monk turned and walked on down the corridor.

"I have been told that you are interns. I think we must find somewhere for you to ask me your questions," Vasily spoke.

"Yes, that would be good," Kostya answered, studying the interesting man. He was no more than forty years old, dark-haired, tall; were it not for the monk's cassock, one might say he was of athletic build. They walked back a short way along the corridor and entered through a door. Now they stood in a room resembling a lecture hall. "Just like at the university indeed," thought Kostya, sitting down at the first table along with the others.

"Very well, you may ask your questions. You are familiar with my medical history, I presume?" asked Vasily.

"Yes, of course. You are a Doctor of Physical and Mathematical Sciences. As a matter of fact, we..." Kostya began speaking, already prepared to reveal his cards.

"How are you feeling now? Is there any anxiety, fear, depression?" Henry interrupted Konstantin, wishing to remain a little longer in his new role.

"Thank you, everything is well. I have regained my former rational thinking. I can distinguish between what is reality and what is..." the monk paused briefly, "unreality."

"Then why are you here?" Henry continued his questioning. The monk looked at Henry with an inquiring gaze.

"What relation does my psychological state have to serving our Heavenly Father?"

Konstantin and Henry exchanged glances, thinking the same thing: "The most direct relation." Henry had already opened his mouth to voice this thought aloud, but Konstantin interrupted him:

"As a matter of fact, we are not practicing psychiatrists. I am a philosopher, and my friend... was recently in the same hospital as you. I have read your works. I must confess, you have a gift for conveying complex theories in simple words. I found your books quite engaging," Konstantin admitted.

"I am pleased that my works are read. But why then have you sought me out?" the monk asked with some apprehension.

"I have written two philosophical books—that is to say, I have some connection to scholarship. And as a scholar, I must discover the truth. You understand—I believe the diagnosis was incorrect; you were not mad. Besides this, I would very much like to know: what is this?" Konstantin produced the same statute of the Society for the Protection of Life's Meaning and extended it to the monk.

"Where did you find this?" The monk examined the manuscript with trembling hands.

"In the psychiatric hospital. I take it this is yours, is it not?" Konstantin asked in a somewhat detective-like tone.

"You know nothing, and you will not believe me," Vasily spoke almost in a whisper.

"We have traveled a long way to reach you, and we shall endeavor to believe you. Besides, I am now quite seriously disposed to create this society, and for that I must know the history of the previous one—or do you not think so?" Konstantin continued to press.

As soon as the meaning of Konstantin's final words reached the monk's consciousness, his dark pupils dilated sharply, and in a tone most unusual for a monk, he nearly shouted:

"No... this, young men, I strongly advise you not to do. Better to forget about it. I was like you once; I sought escape from the monotonous everyday by various means. But I understood that there is no escape—only through resignation does everything become easier to bear."

"Do not speak to me of resignation. I have heard this before; I have done it more than once. These are all meaningless and useless words. Resignation—for what purpose? Only to gain entry to paradise? Can paradise replace all the possible pleasures of earthly life?" Konstantin spoke in a voice somehow not his own, and after a momentary pause continued in a more ordinary tone: "So will you tell us your story?"

"I shall tell you. But after my story, you must forget about the society. One must resign oneself not for paradise, but for one's own sake," the monk answered, looking at Kostya somewhat askance.