n them,
and it was the power of this faith that confused Foma. He had already
forgotten all he knew about the old man, all of which he had but a while
ago believed to be true.

"Whoever gives freedom to his body, kills his soul!" said Anany, looking
at Foma so strangely as if he saw behind him somebody, who was grieved
and frightened by his words; and whose fear and pain delighted him. "All
you people of today will perish through freedom. The devil has captured
you--he has taken toil away from you, and slipped machines and telegrams
into your hands. How freedom eats into the souls of men! Just tell me,
why are the children worse than their fathers? Because of their freedom,
yes. That's why they drink and lead depraved lives with women. They have
less strength because they have less work, and they have not the spirit
of cheerfulness because they have no worries. Cheerfulness comes in time
of rest, while nowadays no one is getting tired."

"Well," said Foma, softly, "they were leading depraved lives and
drinking just as much in former days as now, I suppose."

"Do you know it? You should keep silence!" cried Anany, flashing his
eyes sternly. "In former days man had more strength, and the sins were
according to his strength. While you, of today, have less strength,
and more sins, and your sins are more disgusting. Then men were like
oak-trees. And God's judgment will also be in accordance with their
strength. Their bodies will be weighed, and angels will measure their
blood, and the angels of God will see that the weight of the sins does
not exceed the weight of the body and the blood. Do you understand? God
will not condemn the wolf for devouring a sheep, but if a miserable rat
should be guilty of the sheep's death, God will condemn the rat!"

"How can a man tell how God will judge man?" asked Foma, thoughtfully.
"A visible trial is necessary."

"Why a visible trial?"

"That people might understand."

"Who, but the Lord, is my judge?"

Foma glanced at the old man and lowering his head, became silent.
He again recalled the fugitive convict, who was killed and burnt
by Shchurov, and again he believed that it really was so. And the
women--his wives and his mistresses--had surely been hastened toward
their graves by this old man's caresses; he had crushed them with his
bony chest, drunk the sap of their life with these thick lips of his
which were scarlet yet from the clotted blood of the women, who died in
the embr