e it to me."

The Little Russian stood in the middle of the room, tall and spare,
swaying on his legs, with his hands thrust in his pockets, and looked
down on Nikolay. Nikolay sat firmly in his chair, enveloped in clouds
of smoke, with red spots on his face showing through.

"The people gave it to me!" he repeated clenching his fist. "If they
kick me I have the right to strike them and punch their eyes out!
Don't touch me, and I won't touch you! Let me live as I please, and
I'll live in peace and not touch anybody. Maybe I'd prefer to live in
the woods. I'd build myself a cabin in the ravine by the brook and
live there. At any rate, I'd live alone."

"Well, go and live that way, if it pleases you," said the Little
Russian, shrugging his shoulders.

"Now?" asked Nikolay. He shook his head in negation and replied,
striking his fist on his knee:

"Now it's impossible!"

"Who's in your way?"

"The people!" Vyesovshchikov retorted brusquely. "I'm hitched to them
even unto death. They've hedged my heart around with hatred and tied
me to themselves with evil. That's a strong tie! I hate them, and I
will not go away; no, never! I'll be in their way. I'll harass their
lives. They are in my way, I'll be in theirs. I'll answer only for
myself, only for myself, and for no one else. And if my father is a
thief----"

"Oh!" said the Little Russian in a low voice, moving up to Nikolay.

"And as for Isay Gorbov, I'll wring his head off! You shall see!"

"What for?" asked the Little Russian in a quiet, earnest voice.

"He shouldn't be a spy; he shouldn't go about denouncing people. It's
through him my father's gone to the dogs, and it's owing to him that he
now is aiming to become a spy," said Vyesovshchikov, looking at Andrey
with a dark, hostile scowl.

"Oh, that's it!" exclaimed the Little Russian. "And pray, who'd blame
you for that? Fools!"

"Both the fools and the wise are smeared with the same oil!" said
Nikolay heavily. "Here are you a wise fellow, and Pavel, too. And do
you mean to say that I am the same to you as Fedya Mazin or Samoylov,
or as you two are to each other? Don't lie! I won't believe you,
anyway. You all push me aside to a place apart, all by myself."

"Your heart is aching, Nikolay!" said the Little Russian softly and
tenderly sitting down beside him.

"Yes, it's aching, and so is your heart. But your aches seem nobler to
you than mine. We are all scoundrels toward one ano