positively aghast. "What language!"

And she looked at her father in perplexity, dully, not understanding
why she should not use those words. He would have admonished her,
but she struck him as so savage and benighted; and for the first
time he realized that she had no religion. And all this life in the
forest, in the snow, with drunken peasants, with coarse oaths,
seemed to him as savage and benighted as this girl, and instead of
giving her a lecture he only waved his hand and went back into the
room.

At that moment the policeman and Sergey Nikanoritch came in again
to see Matvey. Yakov Ivanitch thought that these people, too, had
no religion, and that that did not trouble them in the least; and
human life began to seem to him as strange, senseless and unenlightened
as a dog's. Bareheaded he walked about the yard, then he went out
on to the road, clenching his fists. Snow was falling in big flakes
at the time. His beard was blown about in the wind. He kept shaking
his head, as though there were something weighing upon his head and
shoulders, as though devils were sitting on them; and it seemed to
him that it was not himself walking about, but some wild beast, a
huge terrible beast, and that if he were to cry out his voice would
be a roar that would sound all over the forest and the plain, and
would frighten everyone. . . .

V

When he went back into the house the policeman was no longer there,
but the waiter was sitting with Matvey, counting something on the
reckoning beads. He was in the habit of coming often, almost every