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Now, as Kalinin spoke, his eyes emitted green sparks, and as he waved his hands over the fire, as though to lop off the red tongues of flame, his fingers twisted convulsively.

“Of course, not all at a stroke did I arrive at this conclusion; I did so but gradually. The person who finally confirmed me in my opinion was a friar of Baku, a sage of pre-eminent wisdom, through his saying to me: ‘With nothing at all ought a man to fetter his soul. Neither with bond-service, nor with property, nor with womankind, nor with any other concession to the temptations of this world ought he to constrain its action. Rather ought he to live alone, and to love none but Christ. Only this is true. Only this will be for ever lasting.’

“And,” added Kalinin with animation and inflated cheeks and flushed, suppressed enthusiasm, “many lands and many peoples have I seen, and always have I found (particularly in Russia) that many folk already have reached an understanding of themselves, and, consequently, refused any longer to render obeisance to absurdities. ‘Shun evil, and you will evolve good.’ That is what the friar said to me as a parting word–though long before our encounter had I grasped the meaning of the axiom. And that axiom I myself have since passed on to other folk, as I hope to do yet many times in the future.”

At this point the speaker’s tone reverted to one of querulous anxiety.

“Look how low the sun has sunk!” he exclaimed.

True enough, that luminary, large and round, was declining into– rather, towards–the sea, while suspended between him and the water were low, dark, white-topped cumuli.

“Soon nightfall will be overtaking us,” continued Kalinin as he fumbled in his kaftan. “And in these parts jackals howl when darkness is come.”

In particular did I notice three clouds that looked like Turks in white turbans and robes of a dusky red colour. And as these cloud Turks bent their heads together in private converse, suddenly there swelled up on the back of one of the figures a hump, while on the turban of a second there sprouted forth a pale pink feather which, becoming detached from its base, went floating upwards towards the zenith and the now rayless, despondent, moonlike sun. Lastly the third Turk stooped forward over the sea to screen his companions, and as he did so, developed a huge red nose which comically seemed to dip towards, and sniff at, the waters.

“Sometimes,” continued Kalinin’s even voice through the crackling and hissing of the wood fire, “a man who is old and blind may cobble a shoe better than cleverer men than he, can order their whole lives.”

But no longer did I desire to listen to Kalinin, for the threads which had drawn me, bound me, to his personality had now parted. All that I desired to do was to contemplate in silence the sea, while thinking of some of those subjects which at eventide never fail to stir the soul to gentle, kindly emotion. Bombers, Kalinin’s words continued dripping into my ear like belated raindrops.

“Nowadays everybody is a busybody. Nowadays everyone inquires of his fellow-man, ‘How is your life ordered?’ To which always there is added didactically, ‘But you ought not to live as you are doing. Let me show you the way.’ As though anyone can tell me how best my life may attain full development, seeing that no one can possibly have such a matter within his knowledge! Nay, let every man live as best he pleases, without compulsion. For instance, I have no need of you. In return, it is not your business either to require or to expect aught of me. And this I say though Father Vitali says the contrary, and avers that throughout should man war with the evils of the world.”

In the vague, wide firmament a blood-red cluster of clouds was hanging, and as I contemplated it there occurred to me the thought, “May not those clouds be erstwhile righteous world-folk who are following an unseen path across that expanse, and dyeing it red with their good blood as they go, in order that the earth may be fertilised?”