At exactly 5 a.m. on a cold autumn morning, nine metallic bell strikes rouse Liudas Vasaris from sleep in the narrow “labirintas” – the 17th room of the seminary that houses seventeen first‑year seminarians. Disoriented, Liudas discovers that his neighbour, Jonas Variokas, has already taken his blanket. The other novices are also rising as the loud bells echo through the corridor. The day marks the end of a five‑day retreat, and for the first time the novices will don sutanas after meditation to receive Holy Communion.

Liudas, still half‑asleep, follows the prescribed routine: after the initial bell he gathers with the others in the chapel for the morning meditation, then proceeds to the refectory for breakfast, attends the Sanctissimum, and follows a rigid hourly schedule marked by three‑bell signals for classes, prayers, meals, and work periods. He notes the complexity of the schedule, counting the number of bell strikes that signal each activity from 5 a.m. until the end of the day at 9 p.m.

He repeatedly walks through the seminary garden, noting the crisp air and the sense of being part of a larger mechanical system ruled by the relentless bells. The description of the chapel is vivid: a dimly lit space with two candles, an oil lamp flickering near the altar, and towering paintings of Saints Aloysius Gonzaga and Stanislaus Kostka that dominate the walls. The chapel’s architecture – rounded ceiling, small altar, rows of pews, organ, and a small choir loft – is presented as the heart of seminary life.

Later, after the afternoon classes, the novices prepare for the first Holy Communion. Liudas, now wearing the black sutana and white cassock, receives the Eucharist while the rector leads the Mass. The ceremony is solemn: candles burn, incense wafts, the choir sings, and the saints’ faces seem to watch over the young seminarians. Liudas feels a mixture of awe and a lingering, shallow reverence; the experience does not yet bring deep spiritual joy, but it marks his formal entry into the clerical community.

After the Mass, Liudas reflects on his past – memories of school, the revolutionary turmoil of 1905, the suicide of a friend, his patriotic writings, and admiration for the poet‑priest Maironis. He recalls conversations with a parish priest who hinted at the calling to priesthood. These recollections intertwine with his present adjustment to seminary life, his interactions with fellow novices, and his anticipation of future rites. The chapter ends with the novices laughing, joking about their ill‑fitting uniforms, and receiving encouragement from senior students, while Liudas continues to navigate his new identity as a seminarian.