Soon after this, not the Rhetor but Pierre's sponsor Willarski, recognised by his voice, comes into the dark chamber to fetch him. To fresh questions as to the firmness of his resolution Pierre replies, "Yes, yes, I agree," and with a beaming, childlike smile, fat chest uncovered, stepping unevenly and timidly in one slippered and one booted foot, he advances while Willarski holds a sword to his bare chest. He is conducted along passages that turn backwards and forwards to the doors of the Lodge. Willarski coughs; he is answered by the Masonic knock with mallets; the doors open. A bass voice, Pierre still blindfolded, questions who he is, when and where he was born, and so on. Then he is led somewhere still blindfolded, and as they go he is told allegories of the toils of his pilgrimage, of holy friendship, of the Eternal Architect of the universe, and of the courage with which he should endure toils and dangers. He notices that he is spoken of now as the Seeker, now as the Sufferer, and now as the Postulant, to the accompaniment of various knockings with mallets and swords. As he is being led up to some object there is hesitation among his conductors; they dispute in whispers, one insisting he should be led along a certain carpet. They take his right hand, place it on something, tell him to hold a pair of compasses to his left breast with the other, and to repeat an oath of fidelity to the laws of the Order. The candles are extinguished and some spirit lighted, as he knows by the smell; he will now see the lesser light. The bandage comes off. By the faint light of the burning spirit Pierre, as in a dream, sees several men in aprons like the Rhetor's, swords pointed at his breast. Among them stands a man whose white shirt is stained with blood. Pierre moves forward with his breast toward the swords, meaning them to pierce it. The swords are drawn back and he is at once blindfolded again. "Now thou hast seen the lesser light." Candles are relit; he will see the full light; the bandage is removed and more than ten voices say together, "Sic transit gloria mundi."
Pierre gradually recovers himself. Round a long table covered with black sit some twelve men in the garments he has already seen. Some he has met in Petersburg society. In the President's chair sits a young man he does not know, with a peculiar cross hanging from his neck. On his right sits the Italian abbé from Anna Pávlovna's two years before. There are also a very distinguished dignitary and a Swiss who was formerly tutor at the Kurágins'. All maintain a solemn silence, listening to the President with his mallet. Let into the wall is a star-shaped light. At one side of the table a small carpet with various figures; at the other something resembling an altar with a Testament and a skull, seven large candlesticks like those in churches. Two brothers lead Pierre to the altar, place his feet at right angles, and bid him lie down, prostrate at the Gates of the Temple. He must first receive the trowel, one whispers. Oh, hush, please. Pierre, perplexed, looks round with shortsighted eyes without obeying, and suddenly doubts: where is he, what is he doing, are they laughing at him, shall he not be ashamed to remember this? The doubts last only a moment. He glances at the serious faces, remembers all he has already gone through, and realises he cannot stop halfway. Aghast at his hesitation, trying to arouse his former devotion, he prostrates himself, and the feeling returns even more strongly. When he has lain there some time he is told to get up. A white leather apron is put on him; he is given a trowel and three pairs of gloves. The Grand Master tells him to do nothing to stain the whiteness of that apron, which symbolizes strength and purity; to toil with the unexplained trowel to cleanse his own heart from vice and indulgently to smooth with it the heart of his neighbour. The first pair of man's gloves he cannot yet know the meaning of, but must keep; the second he is to wear at meetings; of the third, woman's gloves: give them to the woman whom he shall honour most of all, a pledge of purity of heart to his worthy helpmeet in Masonry. But beware that these gloves do not deck hands that are unclean. The Grand Master seems embarrassed; Pierre blushes like a child till tears come, and an awkward pause follows.
A brother leads him to the rug and reads from a manuscript an explanation of all the figures: sun, moon, hammer, plumb line, trowel, rough stone and squared stone, pillar, three windows, and so on. A place is assigned, signs and password shown, and at last he may sit. The Grand Master reads the statutes, very long; from joy, agitation, and embarrassment Pierre is not in a state to understand, and follows only the last words. In their temples they recognise no other distinctions but those between virtue and vice. Beware of making any that may infringe equality. Fly to a brother's aid whoever he may be, exhort him who goeth astray, raise him that falleth, never bear malice. Be kindly and courteous. Kindle in all hearts the flame of virtue. Share thy happiness with thy neighbour; may envy never dim that bliss. Forgive thy enemy, do not avenge thyself except by doing him good. Thus fulfilling the highest law thou shalt regain traces of the ancient dignity which thou hast lost. The Grand Master embraces and kisses him. With tears of joy Pierre looks round, not knowing how to answer congratulations from acquaintances on all sides. He acknowledges no acquaintances but sees in all these men only brothers, and burns with impatience to set to work with them. The mallet raps; they sit; one reads an exhortation on humility. The last duty: the distinguished dignitary titled Collector of Alms goes round. Pierre would like to subscribe all he has, but fearing it might look like pride subscribes the same amount as the others. The meeting ends, and on reaching home Pierre feels as if he had returned from a long journey on which he had spent dozens of years, had become completely changed, and had quite left behind his former habits and way of life.
