Is there anything else?
Yes.... Stay, do you have moments of the eternal harmony, Shatov?"
"You know, Kirillov, you mustn't go on staying up every night."
Kirillov came out of his reverie and, strange to say, spoke far more coherently than he usually did; it was clear that he had formulated it long ago and perhaps written it down.
"There are seconds—they come five or six at a time—when you suddenly feel the presence of the eternal harmony perfectly attained.
It's something not earthly—I don't mean in the sense that it's heavenly—but in that sense that man cannot endure it in his earthly aspect.
He must be physically changed or die.
This feeling is clear and unmistakable; it's as though you apprehend all nature and suddenly say, 'Yes, that's right.'
God, when He created the world, said at the end of each day of creation,
'Yes, it's right, it's good.'
It... it's not being deeply moved, but simply joy.
You don't forgive anything because there is no more need of forgiveness.
It's not that you love—oh, there's something in it higher than love—what's most awful is that it's terribly clear and such joy.
If it lasted more than five seconds, the soul could not endure it and must perish.
In those five seconds I live through a lifetime, and I'd give my whole life for them, because they are worth it.
To endure ten seconds one must be physically changed.
I think man ought to give up having children—what's the use of children, what's the use of evolution when the goal has been attained?
In the gospel it is written that there will be no child-bearing in the resurrection, but that men will be like the angels of the Lord.
That's a hint.
Is your wife bearing a child?"
"Kirillov, does this often happen?"
"Once in three days, or once a week."
"Don't you have fits, perhaps?"
"No."
"Well, you will.
Be careful, Kirillov. I've heard that's just how fits begin.
An epileptic described exactly that sensation before a fit, word for word as you've done. He mentioned five seconds, too, and said that more could not be endured.
Remember Mahomet's pitcher from which no drop of water was spilt while he circled Paradise on his horse.
That was a case of five seconds too; that's too much like your eternal harmony, and Mahomet was an epileptic.
Be careful, Kirillov, it's epilepsy!"
"It won't have time," Kirillov smiled gently.
VI
The night was passing.
Shatov was sent hither and thither, abused, called back. Marie was reduced to the most abject terror for life.
She screamed that she wanted to live, that "she must, she must," and was afraid to die.
"I don't want to, I don't want to!" she repeated.
If Arina Prohorovna had not been there, things would have gone very badly.
By degrees she gained complete control of the patient—who began to obey every word, every order from her like a child.
Arina Prohorovna ruled by sternness not by kindness, but she was first-rate at her work.
It began to get light...
Arina Prohorovna suddenly imagined that Shatov had just run out on to the stairs to say his prayers and began laughing.
Marie laughed too, spitefully, malignantly, as though such laughter relieved her.
At last they drove Shatov away altogether.
A damp, cold morning dawned.
He pressed his face to the wall in the corner just as he had done the evening before when Erkel came.
He was trembling like a leaf, afraid to think, but his mind caught at every thought as it does in dreams.
He was continually being carried away by day-dreams, which snapped off short like a rotten thread.
From the room came no longer groans but awful animal cries, unendurable, incredible.
He tried to stop up his ears, but could not, and he fell on his knees, repeating unconsciously,
"Marie, Marie!"