Chapter 37

Chapter 372,808 wordsCompleted

After several days of gloomy, self‑inflicted penance, Vasaris finds a sealed letter slid under his door. The note, signed “J. R.”, is from the baroness of the Rainaki manor and asks the priest to come at his convenience to collect the books she has set aside for him. She mentions that the “tamsta” (the clerk) should choose books that suit his taste and promises to wait for him in the manor’s library.

Vasaris arrives at the estate around eleven o’clock. A bold, young chambermaid opens the main doors, escorts him through a series of corridors and finally leads him into a spacious, dust‑laden room filled with low‑standing cupboards, shelves, and piles of old journals and tomes. At a low chair amid scattered papers sits the baroness, draped in a silk floral peignoir that leaves her shoulders bare and reveals a pair of red silk under‑shirts. She greets Vasaris with a playful smile, jokes that he may not be the avid book‑lover he pretended to be, and asks him to help sort the boxes and restore order to the chaotic library.

The baroness summons a maid named Zosė to bring a chair; Vasaris takes his seat opposite a heavy wooden crate. Their conversation quickly turns from mundane cataloguing to a probing discussion of clerical attire. She ridicules the “sutana” (the traditional clerical overcoat) and cites a fellow priest, Varšuvoj, who once borrowed her own peignoir. She argues that the restrictive garment stifles both body and spirit, while Vasaris defends the necessity of the habit for modesty and obedience. The baroness then presses him about the purpose of asceticism, comparing the harshness of monastic self‑denial with the natural human desire for beauty and pleasure. She quotes antique statues and erotic journals, asking whether the Church’s condemnation of sensuality is justified.

Vasaris, uneasy, replies that duty and sacrifice are higher than fleeting pleasure, that confession should be a sober examination of sin rather than a source of enjoyment. The baroness counters that “smagumas” (joy) is a fundamental driver of all human action, even religious practice, and that the clergy often disguise their own cravings for pleasure behind solemn rites. She recounts a story of a priest who exchanged his sutana for a silk peignoir, mocking the rigid hierarchy of dress. Their exchange becomes increasingly personal, with the baroness describing the taste of perfume she once inhaled with a cigar, and Vasaris recalling the same scent from his brief encounter with her earlier.

The baroness then orders Vasaris to empty the crate, to which he obliges, pulling out a handful of neglected volumes and arranging them neatly on a nearby desk. Satisfied, she gestures toward a stairwell and leads him to a second‑floor salon. The room is lavishly decorated with plush carpets, mirrors, heavy drapes, and an abundance of fine furniture. She settles into a soft armchair, opens a glossy illustrated journal displaying nude marble statues and scenes from antiquity, and asks Vasaris what he thinks of the “beautiful bodies” of the past. She reads aloud a lyrical love poem, her voice low and seductive, and the priest feels a mix of fascination and shame.

Throughout the visit, Vasaris experiences an inner turmoil: the baroness’s charm and intellectual provocations awaken a longing for beauty and freedom that clashes with his vowed celibacy and sense of clerical duty. He attempts to reassert his position by emphasizing the primacy of spiritual obligation over personal desire, but the baroness replies that even saints needed “joy” to sustain their faith.

When the meeting ends, the baroness thanks him for his help, hands him a bundle of books she deems appropriate, and sends him away with a lingering, ambiguous smile. On his way out, she calls for the chambermaid Sokolina and, in a hushed tone, describes the young priest as “poetic, with a complex soul, and full of contradictions.” She hints that his visitation might become a recurring intrigue for the household.

Vasaris departs the manor, carrying the selected books, his mind rattled by the seductive discourse and by the baroness’s lingering gaze. He reflects on the power of confession, the “coldness” that follows his sacramental duties, and wonders whether the allure of pleasure will ever truly be reconciled with his vocation.