Anton Chekhov

“ Why, I am always trying to get treated by her husband for nothing myself! It is true that, as you say, it is all incredible! One can hardly believe one's eyes. During Mass, you know, when I look out from the altar and see my congregation, Avraamy starving, and my wife, and think of the doctor's wife--how blue her hands were from the cold water--would you believe it, I forget myself and stand senseless like a fool, until the sacristan calls to me. . . . It's awful!"
Father Yakov began walking about again. ”

“ Had it not been for the softened mood in which Kunin found himself on entering the poverty-stricken church, he certainly would have smiled at the sight of Father Yakov. The short priest was wearing a crumpled and extremely long robe of some shabby yellow material; the hem of the robe trailed on the ground.
The church was not full. Looking at the parishioners, Kunin was struck at the first glance by one strange circumstance: he saw nothing but old people and children. . . . Where were the men of working age? Where was the youth and manhood? ”

“ Kunin took up his hat, waited for Father Yakov to return, and said good-bye to him.
"I have simply wasted the morning," he thought wrathfully on the way home. "The blockhead! The dummy! He cares no more about the school than I about last year's snow. . . . No, I shall never get anything done with him! We are bound to fail! If the Marshal knew what the priest here was like, he wouldn't be in such a hurry to talk about a school. We ought first to try and get a decent priest, and then think about the school."
By now Kunin almost hated Father Yakov. ”

“ Looking at it, one might have supposed that Kunin was talking of matters so abstruse that Father Yakov did not understand and only listened from good manners, and was at the same time afraid of being detected in his failure to understand.
"The fellow is not one of the brightest, that's evident . . ." thought Kunin. "He's rather shy and much too stupid."
Father Yakov revived somewhat and even smiled only when the footman came into the study bringing in two glasses of tea on a tray and a cake-basket full of biscuits. ”

“ "Well, that's not at all clerical!" thought Kunin, shrugging his shoulders contemptuously. "What is it, priestly greed or childishness?" ”

“ He was disappointed, and looked at the grey church almost with dislike.
"They complain of the decline of religious feeling among the people . . ." he sighed. "I should rather think so! They'd better foist a few more priests like this one on them!"
Kunin went back into the church three times, and each time he felt a great temptation to get out into the open air again. Waiting till the end of the mass, he went to Father Yakov's. The priest's house did not differ outwardly from the peasants' huts, but the thatch lay more smoothly on the roof and there were little white curtains in the windows. ”

“ And is it seemly for a priest to be proud?"
Father Yakov stood still in the middle of the study, and, as though he did not notice Kunin's presence, began reasoning with himself.
"Well, supposing I endure hunger and disgrace--but, my God, I have a wife! I took her from a good home! She is not used to hard work; she is soft; she is used to tea and white bread and sheets on her bed. ”

“ A reverend Father without a grain of dignity or breeding, hiding biscuits in his pocket like a schoolboy. . . . Fie! Good Lord, where were the bishop's eyes when he ordained a man like that? What can he think of the people if he gives them a teacher like that? One wants people here who . . ."
And Kunin thought what Russian priests ought to be like.
"If I were a priest, for instance. . . . An educated priest fond of his work might do a great deal. . . . I should have had the school opened long ago. And the sermons? ”

“ You will agree that a bad teacher does far less harm than a bad priest."
Kunin glanced at Father Yakov; he was sitting bent up, thinking intently about something and apparently not listening to his visitor.
"Yasha, come here!" a woman's voice called from behind the partition. Father Yakov started and went out. Again a whispering began.
Kunin felt a pang of longing for tea.
"No; it's no use my waiting for tea here," he thought, looking at his watch. "Besides I fancy I am not altogether a welcome visitor. My host has not deigned to say one word to me; he simply sits and blinks." ”

“ After standing a little, hesitating and still wrapping his cassock round him, he suddenly gave up the effort to smile and lifted his head resolutely.
"Pavel Mihailovitch," he said, evidently trying to speak loudly and distinctly.
"What can I do for you?"
"I have heard that you . . . er . . . have dismissed your secretary, and . . . and are looking for a new one. . . ." ”

“ He took his glass and began drinking at once.
"Shouldn't we write at once to the bishop?" Kunin went on, meditating aloud. "To be precise, you know, it is not we, not the Zemstvo, but the higher ecclesiastical authorities, who have raised the question of the church parish schools. They ought really to apportion the funds. I remember I read that a sum of money had been set aside for the purpose. Do you know nothing about it?"
Father Yakov was so absorbed in drinking tea that he did not answer this question at once. ”

“ She is young, not twenty yet. . . . She would like, to be sure, to be smart, to have fun, go out to see people. . . . And she is worse off with me than any cook; she is ashamed to show herself in the street. ”

“ So had begun and had ended a sincere effort to be of public service on the part of a well-intentioned but unreflecting and over-comfortable person. ”