Stories

His white hair fell straight from his strangely shaped head; he was pale, with white eyelashes and, on top of that, somewhat cross-eyed eyes. But no one had ever taken the trouble to look closely at his face, which was repulsive at first glance. This strange face was by no means devoid of beauty, especially now, as he slept. His cheeks had reddened slightly, his crossed eyes were not visible, and his features expressed such peace of mind, such calmness, that one began to feel envious. Here, standing before this sleeping "fool," a thought struck me that pursued me my whole life:

"Why do the people surrounding him imagine that they are better than him? Why do they consider themselves entitled to despise and persecute this quiet, kind creature who has never done anyone any harm?"

And some mysterious voice whispered to me: "Because all the others are holy fools too, only in their own way, and they are angry that Levka is stupid in his own way." This strange thought drove all the chreiae rhetorical exercises and metaphors out of my head. I left the sleeping Levka and went to wander through the forest by chance, with a kind of inner fear, turning over and examining this new thought. Indeed, I thought to myself, in what way is Levka worse than others? Is it because he does not bring any utility? Well, and the fifty generations who lived on this patch of earth only so that their children would not die of hunger today, and so that no one would know why they lived and for what they lived—where is the utility of their existence? Enjoyment of life? But they never enjoyed it...