“And what is the meaning of that insufferable manner,” he cried irritably, “in which all priests make a prisoner of Christ, and announce to the world that He can only be found in their churches? They lie! I don’t deny that in the early days of Christianity, monasteries and convents really represented Christian oases in a pagan desert. But that time has long since passed. Christ has long ago left the monasteries, and dwells among us, in our science, our literature, our law. We may quarrel as much as we please, we may accuse each other of treachery, but in spite of everything, we are all going along the path of Christian progress. Every time we liberate slaves in America or serfs in Russia, every time we abolish torture or corporal punishment, we are proclaiming liberty and brotherhood, we are serving Christ, and Christ is among us. Let them say, if they will, that the foundations of Christianity are shaking, that Christianity is at its last ebb, and must make way for a new religion. It is absurd even to listen to these wild speeches. Christianity is eternal, if only because Christ did not invent anything strange or new or incomprehensible, but expressed clearly and simply truths which every human being feels dimly in his soul. It is not Christianity that will disappear, but its old and worn-out forms. Christianity is slowly and surely passing from the realms of legend and romance into real daily life, where it will take root more and more firmly, until it reigns supreme on earth. As to your convents, they are nothing but empty hives that the working-bees have long ago abandoned, while the monks are drones who have remained behind to linger lazily in the old place until they die. Is it possible that you, with your heart and your intelligence, can wish to end your life among these unnecessary, useless, sleeping drones?” Irene listened in dismay. Both Gzhatski and Père Etienne spoke so eloquently and with such conviction. Which of them was in the right?