"Why, who is to blame if not you? You're his father, he is your
offspring! You ought to have admonished him, have instilled the
fear of God into him. A child must be taught! You have brought him
into the world, but you haven't trained him up in the right way.
It's a sin! It's wrong! It's a shame!"

His Reverence forgot his exhaustion, paced to and fro and went on
talking. Drops of perspiration came out on the deacon's bald head
and forehead. He raised his eyes to his Reverence with a look of
guilt, and said:

"But didn't I train him, Father Fyodor? Lord have mercy on us,
haven't I been a father to my children? You know yourself I spared
nothing for his good; I have prayed and done my best all my life
to give him a thorough education. He went to the high school and I
got him tutors, and he took his degree at the University. And as
to my not being able to influence his mind, Father Fyodor, why, you
can judge for yourself that I am not qualified to do so! Sometimes
when he used to come here as a student, I would begin admonishing
him in my way, and he wouldn't heed me. I'd say to him, 'Go to
church,' and he would answer, 'What for?' I would begin explaining,
and he would say, 'Why? what for?' Or he would slap me on the
shoulder and say, 'Everything in this world is relative, approximate
and conditional. I don't know anything, and you don't know anything
either, dad.'"

Father Anastasy laughed huskily, cleared his throat and waved his
fingers in the air as though preparing to say something. His Reverence
glanced at him and said sternly: