These revelations were wild and incoherent, and indeed came as if from a crazy man. But, for all that, Nikolai Vsevolodovich spoke with such strange sincerity, never before seen in him, with such simple-heartedness, completely unlike him, that it seemed the former man, suddenly and inadvertently, had vanished in him completely. He was not in the least ashamed to show the fear with which he spoke about his phantom. But all this was momentary and vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

"This is all rubbish," he said quickly and with awkward vexation, recollecting himself. "I'll go to a doctor."

"You certainly should," Tikhon confirmed.

"You say it so affirmatively ... Have you seen such people as I, with such visions?"

"I have, but very rarely. I remember only one such in my life, an army officer, after he lost his wife, an irreplaceable life's companion for him. The other I only heard about. They were both cured abroad... And how long have you been subject to this?"

"About a year, but it's all rubbish. I'll go to a doctor. It's all rubbish, terrible rubbish. It's I myself in various aspects and nothing more. Since I've just added this... sentence, you must be thinking I'm still doubtful and am not certain that it's I and not actually a demon?"

Tikhon gave him a questioning look.

"And ... do you see him really?" he asked, so as to remove all doubt that it was undoubtedly a false and morbid hallucination, "do you actually see some sort of image?"

"It's strange that you should insist about it, when I've already told you I do," Stavrogin again began to grow more irritated with every word, "of course I do, I see it, just as I see you... and sometimes I see it and am not sure I see it, though I do see it... and sometimes I'm not sure I see it, and I don't know what's true: he or I. . . it's all rubbish. And you, can't you somehow suppose that it's actually a demon?" he added, laughing, and changing too abruptly to a scoffing tone. "Wouldn't that be more in line with your profession?"

"It's more likely an illness, although..."

"Although what?"

"Demons undoubtedly exist, but the understanding of them can vary greatly."

"You lowered your eyes again just now," Stavrogin picked up with irritable mockery, "because you were ashamed for me, that I believe in the demon, and yet in the guise of not believing I slyly asked you the question: does he or does he not actually exist?"

Tikhon smiled vaguely.

"And, you know, lowering your eyes is totally unbecoming to you: unnatural, ridiculous, and affected, and to give satisfaction for my rudeness I will tell you seriously and brazenly: I believe in the demon, believe canonically in a personal demon, not an allegory, and I have no need to elicit anything from anyone, there you have it. You must be terribly glad ..."

He gave a nervous, unnatural laugh. Tikhon was gazing at him with curiosity, his eyes gentle and as if somewhat timid.

"Do you believe in God?" Stavrogin suddenly blurted out.

"I do."

"It is said that if you believe and tell a mountain to move, it will move^[215]... that's rubbish, however. But, still, I'm curious: could you move a mountain, or not?"

"If God told me to, I could," Tikhon said softly and with restraint, again beginning to lower his eyes.

"Well, but that's the same as if God moved it himself. No, you, you, as a reward for your belief in God?"

"Perhaps not."

“‘Perhaps'? That's not bad. And why do you doubt?"

"I don't believe perfectly."

"What, you? not perfectly? not fully?"

"Yes... perhaps not to perfection."

"Well! In any case you still believe that at least with God's help you could move it, and that's no small thing. It's still a bit more than the très peu^[ccxxiv] of a certain also archbishop—under the sword, it's true.^[216] You are, of course, a Christian, too?"

"Let me not be ashamed of thy cross, O Lord," Tikhon almost whispered in a sort of passionate whisper, inclining his head still more. The corners of his lips suddenly moved nervously and quickly.

"And is it possible to believe in a demon, without believing at all in God?" Stavrogin laughed.

"Oh, quite possible, it happens all the time," Tikhon raised his eyes and also smiled.

"And I'm sure you find such faith more respectable than total disbelief... Oh, you cleric!" Stavrogin burst out laughing. Tikhon again smiled to him.

"On the contrary, total atheism is more respectable than worldly indifference," he added, gaily and ingenuously.

"Oho, so that's how you are."

"A complete atheist stands on the next-to-last upper step to the most complete faith (he may or may not take that step), while the indifferent one has no faith, apart from a bad fear."

"However, you... you have read the Apocalypse?"

"I have."

"Do you remember: 'To the angel of the church in Laodicea write...'?"

"I do. Lovely words."

"Lovely? A strange expression for a bishop, and generally you are an odd man... Where is the book?" Stavrogin became strangely hurried and anxious, his eyes seeking the book on the table. "I'd like to read it to you ... do you have a Russian translation?"

"I know it, I know the passage, I remember it very well," said Tikhon.

"You know it by heart? Recite it! ..."

He quickly lowered his eyes, rested his two palms on his knees, and impatiently prepared to listen. Tikhon recited, recalling it word for word: "And unto the angel of the church of the Laodiceans write; These things saith the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the beginning of the creation of God; I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot: I would thou wert cold or hot. So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth. Because thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked..."^[217]

"Enough..." Stavrogin cut him short. "It's for the middling sort, for the indifferent ones, right? You know, I love you very much."

"And I you," Tikhon responded in a low voice.

Stavrogin fell silent and suddenly lapsed again into his former pensiveness. This occurred as if in fits, for the third time now. And he had said "I love you" to Tikhon also almost in a fit, at least unexpectedly for himself. More than a minute passed.

"Don't be angry," Tikhon whispered, touching his elbow just barely with his finger, and as if growing timid himself. The other gave a start and frowned wrathfully.

"How could you tell I was angry?" he said quickly. Tikhon was about to say something, but the other suddenly interrupted him in inexplicable alarm:

"What made you precisely think I was sure to get angry? Yes, I was angry, you're right, and precisely for having said 'I love you.' You're right, but you're a crude cynic, your thoughts are humiliating to human nature. There might be no anger if it was another man and not me... However, the point isn't about this other one, but about me. Anyhow you're an odd man and a holy fool..."

He was growing more and more irritated, and, strangely, no longer bothered about his words:

"Listen, I don't like spies and psychologists, at least those who try to pry into my soul. I don't invite anyone into my soul, I don't need anyone, I'm able to manage by myself. You think I'm afraid of you?" he raised his voice and looked up defiantly. "You are fully convinced that I've come to reveal some 'dreadful' secret to you and are waiting for it with all the monkish curiosity you're capable of? Well, know then that I shall reveal nothing to you, no secret, because I don't need you at all."