Chapter 53

Chapter 532,270 wordsCompleted

Liudas Vasaris steps off the Berlin‑Kaunas‑Riga train at the once‑busy Virbalio station, now a dilapidated, sparsely staffed border post. He notes the familiar yet empty customs buildings, the rusted tracks, and the uniformed officials still speaking Russian. While waiting for the train to depart, a short, black‑clad man intrudes into his carriage, demanding a seat and greeting him with an enthusiastic, familiar “Iš tiesų Liudas!”—revealed to be his old seminary friend, Antanas Meškėnas, now a university professor. Their reunion is boisterous, filled with drinking, joking, and a heated discussion of post‑war Lithuanian politics: Meškėnas describes the new Christian‑based government, his own academic position, and the role of clergy in the state, while Liudas reflects on his transformation from a war‑time vicar to a civilian traveler.

The conversation shifts to personal matters: Meškėnas mentions acquaintances such as the former vicar Stripaitis (now a Seimas member), the baroness Rainakienė, and other clergy (Platūnas, Stripaitis, Varnėnas). He invites Liukas to his home “Rūtoj” or “Birutėj” for the night and promises a future meeting. After a brief pause in the train’s departure, the carriage fills with additional passengers, including two unknown priests; one, mistaking Liudas for a cleric, engages in a loud, joking tirade before leaving.

Liudas and Meškėnas disembark and board a separate train toward Kaunas. The narrative then follows the train’s arrival at Kaunas station, describing the small, grimy depot with its cracked platform, wooden tracks, and a bleak surrounding landscape of mud, abandoned houses, and silent streets. Liudas walks through the deserted city, noting the lack of traffic, the faded grandeur of a three‑storey building, and the sparse, deteriorating infrastructure (electric and telephone lines sagging). He observes the emptiness of shops, the boarded‑up factories, and the oppressive dust clouds that veil the town. The chapter closes with Liudas entering a modest inn called “Rūtos” (or “Birutė”), taking a room, and falling into a restless sleep haunted by a dream of a liturgical service in his hometown, wherein he recites “Mea maxima culpa” repeatedly, symbolizing his lingering guilt and spiritual disquiet. This dream underscores his internal struggle between his past clerical identity and his uncertain future in a changed Lithuania.