udged by one who knows all, but not by
us. Well, you want an argument," he added, "come on then."

They rose from the table and sat down in the entrance porch which served
as a veranda.

"Come, let's argue then," said Prince Andrew, "You talk of schools," he
went on, crooking a finger, "education and so forth; that is, you want
to raise him" (pointing to a peasant who passed by them taking off his
cap) "from his animal condition and awaken in him spiritual needs, while
it seems to me that animal happiness is the only happiness possible, and
that is just what you want to deprive him of. I envy him, but you
want to make him what I am, without giving him my means. Then you say,
'lighten his toil.' But as I see it, physical labor is as essential to
him, as much a condition of his existence, as mental activity is to you
or me. You can't help thinking. I go to bed after two in the morning,
thoughts come and I can't sleep but toss about till dawn, because I
think and can't help thinking, just as he can't help plowing and mowing;
if he didn't, he would go to the drink shop or fall ill. Just as I could
not stand his terrible physical labor but should die of it in a week, so
he could not stand my physical idleness, but would grow fat and die.
The third thing--what else was it you talked about?" and Prince Andrew
crooked a third finger. "Ah, yes, hospitals, medicine. He has a fit,
he is dying, and you come and bleed him and patch him up. He will drag
about as a cripple, a burden to everybody, for another ten years. It
would be far easier and simpler for him to die. Others are being born
and there are plenty of them as it is. It would be different if you
grudged losing a laborer--that's how I regard him--but you want to cure
him from love of him. And he does not want that. And besides, what a
notion that medicine ever cured anyone! Killed them, yes!" said he,
frowning angrily and turning away from Pierre.

Prince Andrew expressed his ideas so clearly and distinctly that it was
evident he had reflected on this subject more than once, and he spoke
readily and rapidly like a man who has not talked for a long time. His
glance became more animated as his conclusions became more hopeless.

"Oh, that is dreadful, dreadful!" said Pierre. "I don't understand how
one can live with such ideas. I had such moments myself not long ago, in
Moscow and when traveling, but at such times I collapsed so that I don't
live at all--everything seems ha