there in a fortnight, and shall ask again."

Alexandr Ivanitch took off his overcoat and remained in a shirt
with an embroidered Russian collar and a worsted belt.

"It is time for bed," he said, folding his overcoat for a pillow,
and yawning. "Till lately, you know, I had no knowledge of God at
all. I was an atheist. When I was lying in the hospital I thought
of religion, and began reflecting on that subject. In my opinion,
there is only one religion possible for a thinking man, and that
is the Christian religion. If you don't believe in Christ, then
there is nothing else to believe in, . . . is there? Judaism has
outlived its day, and is preserved only owing to the peculiarities
of the Jewish race. When civilization reaches the Jews there will
not be a trace of Judaism left. All young Jews are atheists now,
observe. The New Testament is the natural continuation of the Old,
isn't it?"

I began trying to find out the reasons which had led him to take
so grave and bold a step as the change of religion, but he kept
repeating the same, "The New Testament is the natural continuation
of the Old"--a formula obviously not his own, but acquired--
which did not explain the question in the least. In spite of my
efforts and artifices, the reasons remained obscure. If one could
believe that he had embraced Orthodoxy from conviction, as he said
he had done, what was the nature and foundation of this conviction
it was impossible to grasp from his words. It was equally impossible
to assume that he had changed his religion from interested motives:
his cheap shabby clothes, his going on living at the expense of the
convent, and the uncertainty of his future, did not look like