“There is a God, Stepan Trofimovitch, I assure you there is,” Varvara Petrovna implored him. “Give it up, drop all your foolishness for once in your life!” (I think she had not quite understood his profession de foi .)

“My friend,” he said, growing more and more animated, though his voice broke frequently, “as soon as I understood⁠ ⁠… that turning of the cheek, I⁠ ⁠… understood something else as well. J’ai menti toute ma vie , all my life, all! I should like⁠ ⁠… but that will do tomorrow.⁠ ⁠… Tomorrow we will all set out.”

Varvara Petrovna burst into tears. He was looking about for someone.

“Here she is, she is here!” She seized Sofya Matveyevna by the hand and led her to him. He smiled tenderly.