two paralytics were made to walk. You'll see for yourself, young man, and then you won't smile. I have heard that you are an unbeliever.
SAVVA
You have heard correctly. I am an unbeliever.
FAT MONK
It's a shame, a shame. Of course, there are many unbelievers nowadays among the educated classes. But are they any happier on that account? I doubt it.
SAVVA
No, there are not so many. They think they are unbelievers because they don't go to church. As a matter of fact, they have greater faith than you. It's more deep-seated.
FAT MONK
Is that so?
SAVVA
Yes, yes. The form of their faith is, of course, more refined. They are cultured, you see.
FAT MONK
Of course, of course. People feel better, feel more confident and secure, if they believe.
SAVVA
They say the devil is choking the monks here every night.
FAT MONK (laughing)
Nonsense. (To the Gray Monk passing by) Father Vissarion, come here a moment. Sit down. Mr. Tropinin's son here says the devil chokes us every night. Have you heard about it? (The two monks laugh good-naturedly as they look at each other)
GRAY MONK
Some of the monks can't sleep well because they have overeaten, so they think they are being choked. Why, young man, the devil can't enter within our sacred precincts.
SAVVA
But suppose he does suddenly put in an appearance? What will, you do then?
FAT MONK
We'll get after him with the holy-water sprinkler, that's what we'll do. "Don't butt in where you have no business to, you black-faced booby!" (The monk laughs)
GRAY MONK
Here comes King Herod.
FAT MONK
Wait a while, Father Vissarion. (To Savva) You talk about faith and such things. There's a man for you—look at him—see how he walks. And yet he has chains on him weighing four hundred pounds. He doesn't walk, he dances. He visits us every summer, and I must say he is a very valuable guest. His example strengthens others in their faith. Herod! Ho, Herod!
KING HEROD
What do you want?
FAT MONK
Come here a minute. This gentleman doubts the existence of God. Talk to him.
KING HEROD
What's the matter with yourself? Are you so full of booze that you can't wag your own tongue?
FAT MONK
You heretic! What a heretic! (Both monks laugh)
KING HEROD (approaching)
What gentleman?
FAT MONK
This one.
KING HEROD (scrutinizing him)
He doubts? Let him doubt. It's none of my business.
SAVVA
Oh!
KING HEROD
Why, what did you think?
FAT MONK
Sit down, please.
KING HEROD
Never mind. I'd rather stand.
FAT MONK (to Savva, in a loud whisper)
He is doing that to wear himself out. Until he has reduced himself to absolute faintness he'll neither sleep nor eat. (Aloud) This gentleman is wondering at the kind of chains you have on your body.
KING HEROD
Chains? Just baby rattles. Put them on a horse and he too would carry them if he had the strength. I have a sad heart. (Looks at Savva) You know, I killed my own son. Yes, I did. Have they been telling you about me, these chatterboxes?
SAVVA
They have.
KING HEROD
Can you understand it?
SAVVA
Why not? Yes, I can.
KING HEROD
You lie—you can't. No one can understand it. Go through the whole world, search round the whole globe, ask everybody—no one will be able to tell you, no one will understand. And if anyone says he does, take it from me that he lies, lies just as you do. Why, you can't even see your own nose properly, yet you have the brazenness to say you understand. Go. You are a foolish boy, that's what you are.
SAVVA
And you are wise?
KING HEROD
I am wise. My sorrow has made me so. It is a great sorrow. There is none greater on earth. I killed my son with my own hand. Not the hand you are looking at, but the one which isn't here.
SAVVA
Where is it?
KING HEROD
I burnt it. I held it in the stove and let it burn up to my elbow.
SAVVA
Did that relieve you?
KING HEROD
No. Fire cannot destroy my grief. It burns with a heat that is greater than fire.
SAVVA
Fire, brother, destroys everything.
KING HEROD
No, young man, fire is weak. Spit on it and it is quenched.
SAVVA
What fire? It is possible to kindle such a conflagration that an ocean of water will not quench it.
KING HEROD
No, boy. Every fire goes out when its time comes. My grief is great, so great that when I look around me I say to myself: Good heavens, what has become
