Chapter 79

Chapter 792,527 wordsCompleted

After Liudas Vasaris’s death on 17 May 1919, the narrator is appointed to a commission charged with sorting the poet’s archives. He begins cataloguing a flood of items—letters, diary entries, lecture notes, speeches, handwritten poems, and two plays. Among these, a bulky, large‑format notebook with a hard cover bears the title “Į šviesią buitį”. Opening it, the narrator recognises it as an autobiographical manuscript, half diary and half memoir, documenting Vasaris’s last life stage. While reading he also uncovers a cache of letters from a young woman—later identified as himself in his younger days—and excerpts from Vasaris’s wife’s diary, together weaving a coherent, emotionally rich portrait of Vasaris’s inner world.

The narrator notes how he had previously drawn heavily on Vasaris’s experiences for his own novel “Altorių šešėly”, which remains unfinished. In that novel Vasaris emerges from the “altar’s shadow” yet stays stranded at a personal crossroads. The discovery of the notebook confirms the truth behind his fictional treatment and fuels his longing to complete a fourth part, a project Vasaris himself had sternly discouraged.

The text then shifts to vivid recollections of the narrator’s personal interactions with Vasaris in his Antakalny apartment. Vasaris is portrayed as a solitary, taciturn figure: smoking cigarettes on a wide sofa, while the narrator occupies a footstool, leafing through journals or art albums. Their conversations are marked by Vasaris’s brief, evasive replies, his refusal to initiate topics, and mutual silences that the narrator grew accustomed to. The narrator describes numerous walks they took—along the Vilnelė banks, up Gediminas Hill, and through the Belmont district—where Vasaris, despite his age, walks with unexpected stamina, arms folded behind his back, head slightly lowered, especially when lost in thought. In good weather he runs with his hair fluttering in the breeze, and the narrator often struggles to keep pace.

A pivotal dialogue unfolds as the narrator attempts to coax Vasaris into speaking about his life, likening it to a cityscape full of clouds and shining peaks. Vasaris acknowledges his own turmoil but deflects, noting his “big” internal journey. Their exchange reveals Vasaras’s deep‑seated melancholy and the narrator’s yearning to draw him out.

Following Vasaris’s burial, the narrator’s own 60th birthday is marked by a public, ceremonious gathering with speeches, gifts, and official thanks. He reflects that, despite the pomp, the ceremony fails to soothe his lingering sense of incompleteness. He muses on his own past: his marriage to Aukse, the social expectations that forced him to resign from the clergy, his lingering guilt for having caused his parents pain, and his continuing struggle to reconcile his priestly background with his literary ambitions. He recounts his inner conflict about continuing the novel, feeling both compelled and restrained by Vasaris’s earlier admonition.

The chapter concludes with the narrator’s contemplation of memory and destiny. He acknowledges the persistent “shadow of the altar” that haunts his thoughts, the unresolved narrative of Vasaris’s life, and his own uncertain future—whether to publish the discovered manuscript, finish his own novel, or accept the lingering “unfinishedness” that now defines both his and Vasaris’s legacies.