"I believe that God exists," continued Sanine, "though I am not
certain, absolutely certain. But whether He does or not, I do not know
Him, nor can I tell what He requires of me. How could I possibly know
this, even though I professed the most ardent faith in Him? God is God,
and, not being human, cannot be judged by human standards. His created
world around us contains all; good and evil, life and death, beauty and
ugliness--everything, in fact, and thus all sense and all exact
definition are lost to us, for His sense is not human, nor His ideas of
good and evil human, either. Our conception of God must always be an
idolatrous one, and we shall always give to our fetish the physiognomy
and the garb suitable to the climatic conditions of the country in
which we live. Absurd, isn't it."
"Yes, you're right," grunted Ivanoff, "quite right!"
"Then, what is the good of living?" asked Yourii, as he pushed back his
glass in disgust, "or of dying, either?"
"One thing I know," replied Sanine, "and that is, that I don't want my
life to be a miserable one. Thus, before all things, one must satisfy
one's natural desires. Desire is everything. When a man's desires
cease, his life ceases, too, and if he kills his desires, then he kills
himself."
"But his desires may be evil?"
"Possibly."
"Well, what then."
"Then ... they must just be evil," replied Sanine blandly, as he looked
Yourii full in the face with his clear, blue eyes.
Ivanoff raised his eyebrows incredulously and said nothing. Yourii was
silent also. For some reason or other he felt embarrassed by those
clear, blue eyes, though he tried to keep looking at them.
For a few moments there was complete silence, so that one could plainly
hear a night-moth desperately beating against the window-pane. Peter
Ilitsch shook his head mournfully, and his drink-besotted visage
drooped towards the stained, dirty newspaper. Sanine smiled again. This
perpetual smile irritated and yet fascinated Yourii.
"What clear eyes he has!" thought he.
Suddenly Sanine rose, opened the window, and let out the moth. A wave
of cool, pleasant air, as from soft wings, swept through the room.
"Yes," said Ivanoff, in answer to his own thought, "there are no two
men alike, so, on the strength of that, let's have another drink."
"No." said Yourii, shaking his head, "I won't have any more."