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 p