Chapter 74

Chapter 742,472 wordsCompleted

Liudas Vasaris, eager for a holiday and disillusioned with Lithuanian literary life, receives a frantic phone call from his former employer’s wife, Liucija Glaudžiuvienė. She reports that her son, Vytukas, is gravely ill with a severe respiratory infection. Without hesitation, Vasaris steals a triubeles (tea‑cup), drives to the Glaudžius household, and finds Vytukas “burning like fire,” coughing, shivering, and barely aware of his surroundings. Liucija’s husband, the coarse‑spoken Povilas Glaudžius, arrives, berates the situation with vulgar language, declares the illness a “curse,” and threatens to leave the room. The mother, overcome with terror, hides her face in her hands, fearing divine retribution.

Vasaris sits beside Vytukas, takes his hand, and attempts gentle reassurance: “Vytuk, what’s wrong, poor thing? You’ll get better soon, and you’ll visit me again.” The boy opens his eyes, recognizes Vasaris as his god‑father, and attempts a smile. Vasaris remains holding his hand, trying to calm the boy’s breath. The father’s noisy steps echo, and he interrogates Vasaris in a gruff voice, insisting he has seen a doctor who offers little hope. The mother watches, trembling, her gaze shifting between her husband’s harshness and Vasaris’s calm.

After a brief period, Vytukas’s condition deteriorates; he becomes delirious, then quiet, and finally, during the night, he dies. Glaudžius informs Vasaris that his son has passed. Vasaris, stunned, walks the empty city streets, wondering whether Glaudžius’s voice was a hallucination or a mis‑perception. He returns to the home, where he discovers Liucija cradling Vytukas’s lifeless body, the child’s face ashen and his hands stretched out on a white sheet. The scene is described as a “mortal painting” with a chilling silence.

Vasaris, overwhelmed, tries to comfort Liucija, who is consumed by a mixture of fear of God, self‑blame, and existential dread. She questions why God would punish her son, accusing herself of sin and demanding an explanation for the meaningless death. Vasaris counters that the illness was a natural consequence of cold and weak lungs, not divine wrath: “Nature is cruel, but it does not target you specifically.” He urges her not to blame herself, to gather strength, and to accept that some suffering lacks a clear purpose.

Liucija, however, remains unable to speak, her eyes glazed with tears. She finally asks Vasaris to stay by her side, to help move the child’s body, and later to escort her to a separate room. Vasaris assists, lifts the child gently, and sits beside her as she weeps, a single tear sliding down her cheek. He holds her hands, repeatedly urging her to sit, to breathe, and to find some “pajėgų” (strength) to endure. The chapter ends with Liucija wiping away her tears, kissing her son’s forehead, and whispering, “Now let us leave him,” as she prepares to retreat to her bedroom, leaving Vasaris to contemplate the futile search for meaning in the child's death and his own lingering doubts about God and his vocation.