V + 

“This made a great impression upon him, like some great spiritual conversion. One apparently insignificant circumstance especially surprised him. Every spring flowers grew by the wall under M. Budnikov’s windows. This Yelena did regularly, and it was put down as an annual source of expense: seed, a watering pot, to a blacksmith for mending the spade.⁠ ⁠… In the early spring Yelena used to set to work at it, gladly and merrily, and M. Budnikov took a delighted interest in it. Now that wing was neglected, the flower bed languished, M. Budnikov’s windows seemed blind.⁠ ⁠… But the other wing, where Gavrilo and his wife lived, bloomed and flourished. A symbol. When M. Budnikov came back from the station and took one look at this unexpected contrast his face changed, and for a short time he lost his usual aristocratic air. I suddenly felt sorry for him. I went out and invited him into my room. He sat with me a long time and gave me his impressions of the capital⁠—verbose, rambling, insincere. I kept feeling that M. Budnikov’s soul was thinking of something very far removed from his impressions of the capital. + 

“Gradually everything drifted back into the old channels. M. Budnikov still went twice a week to his farm, still visited his tenants on certain days, still prepared his dinner on an oil stove. But there were more trifles in his diary; for example, he began to note down how many steps he took each day, and apparently counted thereby the use and value of various things. + 

“In a short time another change took place: M. Budnikov felt attracted to religion. + 

“I remember one fall evening.⁠ ⁠… It was one of those evenings when nature touches your soul especially. The stars seem to be waving and whispering in the heavens, and the earth is covered with light and shade.⁠ ⁠… Our little city, as you know, is quiet and filled with foliage. You go out in the evening and sit down on your steps. And so with the other houses along the street; here’s one person on a bench by the gate, another on the dirt bank, another on the grass.⁠ ⁠… People are whispering about themselves, the trees about themselves⁠—and there’s a hardly perceptible hum. Yes, and something’s whispering in your soul. You unconsciously review your whole life. What was and what is left, where you came from, what’s going to happen? Then, everything⁠ ⁠… the meaning of your life in the general economy of nature, so to speak,⁠ ⁠… nature, where all the stars sink, unnumbered, unlimited,⁠ ⁠… they gleam and shine.⁠ ⁠… And speak to your soul. Sometimes it’s sad and deep and quiet.⁠ ⁠… You feel you’re going to the wrong place. You begin to think what’s there above.⁠ ⁠… You want to run away from this reproving beauty, this exalted calm, with your load of confusion, and you want to melt away in it.⁠ ⁠… You’ve no place to go.⁠ ⁠… You enter your office, look at all your things in the lamplight⁠ ⁠… textbooks, copybooks with answers written by your pupils.⁠ ⁠… And you ask: where’s there anything alive?⁠ ⁠…” + 

Petr Petrovich muttered something and the narrator stopped again. + 

“Well⁠ ⁠… that was the way I felt and I was sitting on my steps and thinking: here’s the people coming from vespers.⁠ ⁠… What of it? That’s the way they find their relations to the infinite.⁠ ⁠… Or else it’s nothing but habit, mere automatic motion. I prefer it to be real. Suddenly I saw one man leave the crowd and come towards me. It turned out to be M. Budnikov. He had been to vespers. He sat down beside me. + 

“I felt that M. Budnikov was waiting, you know, for me to ask him why he went to church. He never had gone and was always sarcastic about religion, but now he had suddenly commenced to go. I was really interested and the evening led me to be frank.⁠ ⁠… Why not say, I thought, that there’s a cloud on my soul.⁠ ⁠… + 

“Yes, Semen Nikolayevich,⁠ ⁠…” I said⁠ ⁠… “I look at the sky and think.⁠ ⁠… + 

“He nodded and commenced: + 

“ ‘That tortured me, too⁠ ⁠… and I suffered.⁠ ⁠… And like you, I saw no solution. But the solution is so plain.⁠ ⁠…’ + 

“He pointed toward the church, a white spot showing through the trees. + 

“ ‘We, intelligent people,’ ” he said, “ ‘are frightened, so to speak, by the beaten path, banality. But⁠—we must drop our pride and fuse⁠ ⁠… or as Tolstoy once said⁠—partake of the common cup, search with the humble faith of humanity⁠ ⁠… cease examining the foundations of life.⁠ ⁠… Like Antaeus, so to speak, we must touch our common mother.⁠ ⁠…’ + 

“He spoke rather nicely. His voice was so sleepy and murmured like the bass in the episcopal choir. I’ll tell you the truth: I felt envious.⁠ ⁠… Really you could feel the quiet and blessing.⁠ ⁠… As M. Budnikov said, it was worth while to fuse, and all these searchings of the heart are healed as by the holy oil. Suddenly I found the lost meaning. I asked myself: what’s the use of these books? Why all these notes, all this quiet life?⁠ ⁠… Why is this bootmaker solemn and satisfied? Mikhailo looks for no special meaning, but he floats along with the general current of life, that is, he agrees with its general significance and meaning. People go maybe once a week into this little white building which looks out so attractive through the trees; they spend a little time in communion with some mystery⁠—and see, for a week they are supplied with the idea of meaning.⁠ ⁠… And many live a harder life than I do.⁠ ⁠… + 

“There’s M. Budnikov.⁠ ⁠… Had he really found this for himself and solved his troubles? I almost asked, but our priest went by just then. M. Budnikov bowed and he returned it pleasantly. And he looked at me with questioning kindness.⁠ ⁠… Budnikov has been converted and may bring back another wanderer. I answered the bow rather warmly and gratefully, and again felt like asking M. Budnikov, but another person of an entirely different character put in an appearance.⁠ ⁠…” + 