On reaching Petersburg Pierre lets no one know of his arrival. He goes nowhere and spends whole days reading Thomas à Kempis, sent him by someone unknown. One thing he continually realises: the joy, hitherto unknown, of believing in the possibility of attaining perfection, and of active brotherly love among men, which Joseph Alexéevich revealed. A week after his arrival, the young Polish count Willarski, whom Pierre knew slightly in society, comes one evening in the official, ceremonious manner in which Dólokhov's second had called, closes the door, satisfies himself that nobody else is in the room, and remains standing. He has a message and an offer. A person of very high standing in the Brotherhood has applied for Pierre to be received before the usual term and has proposed Willarski as sponsor. Willarski considers it a sacred duty. Does Pierre wish to enter under his sponsorship? The cold, austere tone of this man, whom Pierre had almost always met at balls, amiably smiling among brilliant women, surprises him. Yes, he does wish it. Willarski bows his head. One more question, to be answered in all sincerity, not as a future Mason but as an honest man: has he renounced his former convictions, does he believe in God? Pierre considers. "Yes... yes, I believe in God." He repeats it. In that case they can go; the carriage is at his service. Willarski is silent throughout the drive. To Pierre's inquiries as to what he must do and how he should answer, he only replies that brothers more worthy will test him, and Pierre has only to tell the truth.
They enter the courtyard of a large house, ascend a dark staircase, and take off their cloaks in a small well-lit anteroom without a servant. In the next room a man in strange attire appears. Willarski says something in French in an undertone, takes a kerchief from a wardrobe of garments Pierre has never seen, binds Pierre's eyes, tying some hairs painfully in the knot, draws his face down, kisses him, and leads him by the hand. The huge figure, arms hanging, puckered though smiling, moves with uncertain, timid steps. After about ten paces Willarski stops. Whatever happens, Pierre must bear it manfully if he has firmly resolved to join. When he hears a knock, he will uncover his eyes. Courage and success. Left alone, Pierre goes on smiling, shrugs, raises a hand to the kerchief, and lets it drop. Five minutes seem an hour. Arms numb, legs almost giving way, he is afraid of what will happen and still more of showing fear, curious, and most of all joyful that the moment has come to start on that path of regeneration he has dreamed of since the meeting with Bazdéev. Loud knocks. He takes the bandage off. The room is in black darkness, only a small lamp burning inside something white: a human skull on a black table, Gospel open, "In the beginning was the Word." Round the table, a large open box: a coffin with bones. He is not at all surprised. Hoping to enter an entirely new life, he expected everything unusual, even more unusual than this. A skull, a coffin, the Gospel: he had expected all this and even more. "God, death, love, the brotherhood of man," he says to himself, associating the words with vague yet joyful ideas.
The door opens. A rather short man in a white leather apron, a necklace, a high white ruffle outlining a long face lit from below, places small leather-gloved hands on the table. "For what have you come hither? Why have you, who do not believe in the truth of the light, come here? What do you seek? Wisdom, virtue, enlightenment?" Pierre feels awe such as he felt in boyhood at confession, in the presence of one socially a stranger yet nearer through the brotherhood of man. Drawing nearer he recognises Smolyanínov, and it mortifies him: he wished simply a brother and a virtuous instructor. For a long time he cannot utter a word. "Yes... I... desire regeneration." Has he any idea of the means by which the holy Order will help him? He hopes for guidance in regeneration. What is his conception of Freemasonry? The fraternity and equality of men who have virtuous aims, he says, ashamed of the inadequacy. Good. Has he sought means in religion? No, he considered it erroneous; he has been an atheist. He is seeking truth in order to follow its laws, therefore wisdom and virtue. The Rhetor discloses the chief aim: preservation and handing on of a certain important mystery from the remotest ages, even from the first man, on which perhaps the fate of mankind depends. Since nobody can know it unless prepared by long self-purification, a secondary aim is to reform hearts and enlighten minds. Thirdly, by regenerating members, to improve the whole human race and combat the evil which sways the world. Pierre repeats that last, imagining vicious and unfortunate people he will assist, oppressors whose victims he will rescue. The mystery arouses curiosity but does not seem essential; purifying himself does not much interest him because at that moment he feels with delight that he is already perfectly cured. Half an hour later the Rhetor returns with the seven virtues corresponding to the seven steps of Solomon's temple: discretion, obedience, morality, love of mankind, courage, generosity, and the love of death, to be regarded not as a dreaded foe but as a friend that frees the weary soul. Pierre thinks it must be so, but he is still so weak that he loves his life, the meaning of which is only now opening. Five of the other virtues he already feels: especially obedience, which does not even seem a virtue but a joy, glad to submit his will to those who know the indubitable truth. He forgets the seventh and cannot recall it. The third time, still firm? He is ready for everything. The Order delivers its teaching not in words only but by other means, hieroglyphics, emblems of what is not cognizable by the senses. If he is resolved, initiation begins. In token of generosity, all valuables: watch, money, rings. Pierre cannot for some time get the wedding ring off his fat finger. In token of obedience, undress: coat, waistcoat, left boot, shirt drawn from the left breast, left trouser leg above the knee, a slipper for the left foot. He stands with a childlike smile of embarrassment, doubt, and self-derision, arms hanging, legs apart. In token of candor, his chief passion, the one that more than all others caused him to waver on the path of virtue. Wine, gluttony, idleness, laziness, irritability, anger, women: he does not know which to give the pre-eminence. "Women," he says in a low, scarcely audible voice. For a long time the Mason says nothing. At last he binds the eyes again. For the last time: turn all attention upon yourself, put a bridle on your senses, seek blessedness not in passion but in your own heart. The source of blessedness is not without us but within. Pierre has already long been feeling in himself that refreshing source which now floods his heart with glad emotion.
