olish, trusting, blind, greedy,
frivolous...And we cannot tear ourselves out of our harness...where are
we to go? what are we to do? ... And please, don't you think it, Sergei
Ivanovich--that the spite within me is strong only against those who
wronged just me, me personally...No, against all our guests in general;
all these cavaliers, from little to big...Well, and so I have resolved
to avenge myself and my sisters. Is that good or no? ..."

"Jehnechka, really I don't know...I can't...I dare not say anything...I
don't understand."

"But even that's not the main thing...For the main thing is this: I
infected them, and did not feel anything--no pity, no remorse, no guilt
before God or my fatherland. Within me was only joy, as in a hungry
wolf that has managed to get at blood...But yesterday something
happened which even I can't understand. A cadet came to me, altogether
a little bit of a lad, silly, with yellow around his mouth...He used to
come to me from still last winter...And then suddenly I had pity on
him... Not because he was very handsome and very young; and not because
he had always been very polite--even tender, if you will...No, both the
one and the other had come to me, but I did not spare them: with
enjoyment I marked them off, just like cattle, with a red-hot brand
...But this one I suddenly pitied...I myself don't understand--why? I
can't make it out. It seemed to me, that it would be all the same as
stealing money from a little simpleton, a little idiot; or hitting a
blind man, or cutting a sleeper's throat...if he only were some
dried-up marasmus or a nasty little brute, or a lecherous old fellow, I
would not have stopped. But he was healthy, robust, with chest and arms
like a statue's...and I could not... I gave him his money back, showed
him my disease; in a word, I acted like a fool among fools. He went
away from me...burst into tears...And now since last evening I haven't
slept. I walk around as in a fog...Therefore--I'm thinking right
now--therefore, that which, I meditated; my dream to infect them all;
to infect their fathers, mothers, sisters, brides--even all the
world--therefore, all this was folly, an empty fantasy, since I have
stopped? ... Once again, I don't understand anything ...Sergei
Ivanovich, you are so wise, you have seen so much of life--help me,
then, to find myself now!..."

"I don't know, Jennechka!" quietly pronounced Platonov. "Not that I
fear telling you, or advising you, bu