You can do whatever you like.

You have your compensation in your work." Catching her breath she continued with still greater vehemence: "But I, an old woman, I will have nothing to lean upon in my distress if you take my God away from me." Her eyes filled with tears.

She was washing the dishes, and her fingers trembled.
"You did not understand us, mother!" Pavel said softly and kindly.
"Beg your pardon, mother!" Rybin added in a slow, thick voice.

He looked at Pavel and smiled.

"I forgot that you're too old to cut out your warts." "I did not speak," continued Pavel, "about that good and gracious God in whom you believe, but about the God with whom the priests threaten us as with a stick, about the God in whose name they want to force all of us to the evil will of the few." "That's it, right you are!" exclaimed Rybin, striking his fingers upon the table.