are only twenty-three years old. You have no beard yet, not even a moustache.
SAVVA (feeling his face)
Yes, a measly growth; but what conclusions do you draw from that?
LIPA
Fear will come to you yet.
SAVVA
No. If I haven't been frightened so far by watching life, there's nothing else to fear. Life, yes. I embrace the earth with my eyes, the whole of it, the entire little planetoid, and I can find nothing more terrible on it than man and human life. And I am not afraid of man.
LIPA (scarcely listening to him; ecstatically)
Yes, that's the word. That's it. Savva, dear, I am not afraid of bodily suffering either. Burn me on a slow fire. Cut me to pieces. I won't cry. I'll laugh. I know I will. But there is another thing I am afraid of. I am afraid of people's suffering, of the misery from which they cannot escape. When in the stillness of the night, broken only by the striking of the hours, I think of how much suffering there is all around us—aimless, needless suffering; suffering one doesn't even know of—when I think of that, I am chilled with terror. I go down on my knees and pray. I pray to God, saying to Him: "Oh, Lord, if there has to be a victim, take me, but give the people joy, give them peace, give them forgetfulness. Oh, Lord, all powerful as Thou art—"
SAVVA
Yes.
LIPA
I have read about a man who was eaten by an eagle, and his flesh grew again overnight. If my body could turn into bread and joy for the people, I would consent to live in eternal torture in order to feed the unfortunate. There'll soon be a holiday here in the monastery—
SAVVA
I know.
LIPA
There is an ikon of the Saviour there with the touching inscription:
"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden—
SAVVA
And I will give you rest." I know.
LIPA
It is regarded as a wonder-working ikon. Go there on the feast-day. It's like a torrent pouring into the monastery, an ocean rolling toward its walls; and this whole ocean is made up entirely of human tears, of human sorrow and misery. Such monstrosities, such cripples. After witnessing one of those scenes, I walk about as in a dream. There are faces with such a depth of misery in them that one can never forget them as long as one lives. Why, Savva, I was a gay young thing before I saw all that. There is one man who comes here every year—they have nicknamed him King Herod—
SAVVA
He is here already. I've seen him.
LIPA
Have you?
SAVVA
Yes, he has got a tragic face.
LIPA
Long ago, when still a young man, he killed his son by accident, and from that day he keeps coming here. He has an awful face. And all of them are waiting for a miracle.
SAVVA
Yes. There is something worse than inescapable human suffering, however.
LIPA
What?
SAVVA (lightly)
Inescapable human stupidity.
LIPA
I don't know.
SAVVA
I do. Here you see only a small fragment of life, but if you could see and hear all of it—When I first read their newspapers, I laughed and thought it was a joke. I thought they were published in some asylum for the insane. But I found it was no joke. It was really serious, Lipa, really serious. And then my head began to ache with an intolerable pain. (He presses his hand to his forehead)
LIPA
Your head began to ache?
SAVVA
Yes. It's a peculiar pain. You don't know what it is like. Few people know what it is. And the pain continued until I resolved—
LIPA
What?
SAVVA
To annihilate everything.
LIPA
What are you saying?
SAVVA
Yes, yes, everything. All that's old.
LIPA (in amazement)
And man?
SAVVA
Man is to remain, of course. What is in his way is the stupidity that, piling up for thousands of years, has grown into a mountain. The modern sages want to build on this mountain, but that, of course, will lead to nothing but making the mountain still higher. It is the mountain itself that must be removed. It must be levelled to its foundation, down to the bare earth. Do you understand?
LIPA
No, I don't understand you. You talk so strangely.
SAVVA
Annihilate everything! The old houses, the old cities, the old literature, the old art. Do you know what art is?
LIPA
Yes, of course I know—pictures, statues. I went to the Tretyakov art gallery.
SAVVA
That's it—the Tretyakov, and other galleries that are bigger still. There are some good things in them, but it will be still better to have the old stuff out of the way. All the old dress must go. Man must be stripped bare and left naked on a naked earth! Then he will build up a new life. The earth must be denuded, Lipa; it must be stripped of its hideous old rags. It deserves to be arrayed in a king's mantle; but what have they done with it? They have dressed it in coarse fustian, in convict clothes. They've built cities, the idiots!
LIPA
But who will do it? Who's going to destroy everything?
SAVVA
I.
LIPA
You?
SAVVA
Yes, I. I'll begin, and then, when people get to understand what I am after, others will join in. The work
