able succession."

"I grant that, my boy; and I allow, too, that the comets are certainly
claimants to the world whose suits have been deferred to this long
justice, who one day will all recover their inheritances, from which
some tyrant sun has driven them out; but you must also acknowledge, my
child, that for us, the thoughtful worms, or stars, if you like, which
can express their thoughts in spirited curses, providence has no care.
For everything, everything there is a providence: be it so, I believe
it. But for the living kind there is none, unless we take into account
the rare occasions when a plague visits mankind, because it is too
closely spread over the earth and requires thinning."

"Sir, many misfortunes have I suffered on earth, very many, and such as
fate distributes indiscriminately; but it has never destroyed--my
faith."

"No misfortune has ever attacked me. It is not suffering that has made
me sceptical. My life has always been to my taste. Should some one
divide up his property in reward for prayer, I should not benefit one
crumb from it.--It is hypocrites who have forcibly driven me this way.
Perhaps, were I not surrounded by such, I should keep silence about my
unbelief, I should not scandalize others with it, I should not seek to
persecute the world's hypocrites with what they call blasphemy. Believe
me, my boy, of a million men, all but one regard Providence as a rich
creditor, from whom they may always borrow--but when it is a question of
paying the interest, then only that one remembers it."

"And that one is enough to hallow the ideal!"

"That one?--but you will not be that one!"

Lorand, astonished, asked:

"Why not?"

"Because, if you remain long in my vicinity, you must without fail turn
into such a universal disbeliever as I am."

Lorand smiled to himself.

"My child," said Topandy, "you will not catch the infection from me, who
am always sneering and causing scandals, but from that other who prays
to the sound of bells."

"You mean Sarvoelgyi?"

"Whom else could I mean? You will meet this man every day. And in the
end you will say just as I do--'If one must go to heaven in this wise, I
had rather remain here?'"

"Well, and what is this Sarvoelgyi?"

"A hypocrite, who lies to all the saints in turn, and would deceive the
eyes of the archangels if they did not look after themselves."

"You have a very low opinion of the man."

"A low opinion? That is the only good thing in