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Updated: May 26, 2025
Sometimes this longing for a better world, where suffering would be caused neither by hunger nor by laws, took touching and poetic forms. About the month of April, 1895, all eyes in the town of Simbirsk were turned upon a sect founded by a peasant named Pistzoff. These poor countryfolk protested against the injustices of the world by robing themselves in white, "like celestial angels."
"Why do you suppose that I have not?" asked Yourii, and his dark eyes flashed menacingly. "Perhaps my conception of life may be a wrong one, but I have it." "Very well, then," said Sanine, "why seek to acquire another?" Pistzoff tittered. "Hush!" cried Koudriavji contemptuously, as his neck twitched. "How clever he is!" thought Sina Karsavina, full of naive admiration for Sanine.
On coming out of the lighted room, the darkness seemed so intense that nobody was able to see anybody else, and only voices were recognizable. The two workmen kept aloof from the others, and, when they were at some distance, Pistzoff laughed and said: "It's always like that, with them. They meet together, and are going to do such wonders, and then each wants to have it his own way.
"That's right," sighed Pistzoff approvingly, as he looked round at the company with his bright, dark eyes. "The question now arises: What books ought we to read? Possibly some one here present could make a suggestion regarding the programme that should be adopted?" Schafroff put on his glasses and slowly stood up. In his hand he held a small note-book.
His wife protested vehemently, especially when Pistzoff forbade her to touch meat, on account of the suffering endured by animals when their lives are taken from them. The old lady did not share his tastes, and firmly upheld a contrary opinion, declaring that animals went gladly to their death! Pistzoff then fetched a fowl, ordered his wife to hold it, and procured a hatchet with which to kill it.
That big chap was the only one I liked." "A lot you understand when clever folk of that sort talk together!" replied Koudriavji testily, twisting his neck about as if he were being throttled. Pistzoff whistled mockingly in lieu of answer. Soloveitchik stood at the door for some time, looking up to the starless sky and rubbing his thin fingers.
While threatening the poor creature he made his wife observe its anguish and terror, and the fowl was saved at the same time as the soul of Madame Pistzoff, who admitted that fowls, at any rate, do not go gladly into the cooking-pot. The number of Pistzoff's followers increased daily, and the sect of the "White-robed Believers" was formed.
The men strode cautiously into the room, stiffly grasping the hands held out to give them a singularly courteous welcome. Pistzoff smiled confusedly, and Koudriavji moved his long neck about as if the collar of his shirt were throttling him. Then they sat down by the window, near Sina. "Why hasn't Nicolaieff come?" asked Goschienko sharply. "Nicolaieff was not able to come," replied Pistzoff.
"We do not live as we should," taught Pistzoff, an aged, white-haired man. "We do not live as our fathers lived. We should act with simplicity, and follow the truth, conquering our bodily passions. The life that we lead now cannot continue long. This world will perish, and from its ruins will arise another, a better world, wherein all will be robed in white, as we are."
He looked about him as a young peasant might do when first coming to a town. Pushing past them, Soloveitchik began solemnly, "Gentlemen, these are " "Oh! that'll do!" cried Goschienko, interrupting him, as usual. "Good evening, comrades." "Pistzoff and Koudriavji," said the Polytechnic student.
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