"Only in April, during the Easter holidays, did that inevitable day come for Luzhin when the whole world suddenly went dark, as if someone had thrown a switch, and in the darkness only one thing remained brilliantly lit, a newborn wonder, a dazzling islet on which his whole life was destined to be concentrated. The happiness onto which he fastened came to stay; that April day froze forever, while somewhere else the movement of seasons, the city spring, the country summer, continued in a different plane — dim currents which barely affected him.//It began innocently... 'What are you doing here?' he asked, spying Luzhin in the dark corner. 'My, my, how bad it is to eavesdrop!'...A number of carved figures lay closely packed in the box...'What a game, what a game,' said the violinist, tenderly closing the box. 'Combinations like melodies. You know, I can simply hear the moves.' ...'The game of the gods. Infinite possibilities.' // He had already put the light out when his mother looked in and bent over him, the diamonds around her neck glinting in the half-light...He woke up next day with a feeling of incomprehensible excitement. The April morning was bright and windy ...For lunch there was the remains of the paschal cream cheese (now a squat little cone with a grayish shading on its round summit) and a still untouched Easter cake...."

"...It was more than ten years since he had been in a Russian home and now, finding himself in a house where a gaudy Russia was boldly put on display, he experienced a childish elation, a desire to clap his hands — never in his life had he felt so cozy and so at ease. 'Left over from Easter,' he said with conviction, pointing with his auricular finger at a large gold-patterned wooden egg (a tombola prize from a charity ball)..."

"That same day there was also a church wedding....Peering further into the depths of the past he remembered nocturnal returns on Catkin Night, holding a candle whose flame darted about in his hands... And he remembered the nights at Easter: the deacon would read in a sobbing bass voice, and still sobbing would close the enormous gospel with a sweeping gesture.... And he remembered how airy and penetrating, so that it evoked a sucking sensation in the epigaster, the Greek word 'pascha' (paschal cake) sounded on an empty stomach when it was pronounced by the emaciated priest...Languorous recollections, duskiness, fitful gleams, saporous church air and pins and needles in the legs. And to all this now was added a veiled bride, and a crown that trembled in the air over his very head and looked as if it might fall at any minute...Afterwards, when everyone was sitting at the big table, he had the same feeling you get when you come home after matins to the festive table with its gilt-horned ram made of butter, a ham, and a virgin-smooth pyramid of paschal cottage cheese that you want to start on right away, bypassing the ham and eggs. It was hot and noisy...Mrs. Luzhin looked at her husband, at his curl, at his beautifully tailored dress suit and at the crooked half-smile with which he greeted the courses..."