to live! Which
means--live and let others live. That's the philosophy! And that woman.
Bah! Is she then the only one in the world? The world is large enough.
If you wish, I'll introduce you to such a virile woman, that even the
slightest trace of your philosophy would at once vanish from your soul!
Oh, a remarkable woman! And how well she knows how to avail herself
of life! Do you know, there's also something epic about her? She is
beautiful; a Phryne, I may say, and what a match she would be to you!
Ah, devil! It is really a splendid idea. I'll make you acquainted with
her! We must drive one nail out with another."

"My conscience does not allow it," said Foma, sadly and sternly. "So
long as she is alive, I cannot even look at women."

"Such a robust and healthy young man. Ho, ho!" exclaimed Ookhtishchev,
and in the tone of a teacher began to argue with Foma that it was
essential for him to give his passion an outlet in a good spree, in the
company of women.

"This will be magnificent, and it is indispensable to you. You may
believe me. And as to conscience, you must excuse me. You don't define
it quite properly. It is not conscience that interferes with you, but
timidity, I believe. You live outside of society. You are bashful,
and awkward. Youare dimly conscious of all this, and it is this
consciousness that you mistake for conscience. In this case there can be
no question about conscience. What has conscience to do here, since it
is natural for man to enjoy himself, since it is his necessity and his
right?"

Foma walked on, regulating his steps to those of his companion, and
staring along the road, which lay between two rows of buildings,
resembled an enormous ditch, and was filled with darkness. It seemed
that there was no end to the road and that something dark, inexhaustible
and suffocating was slowly flowing along it in the distance.
Ookhtishchev's kind, suasive voice rang monotonously in Foma's ears,
and though he was not listening to his words, he felt that they were
tenacious in their way; that they adhered to him, and that he was
involuntarily memorizing them. Notwithstanding that a man walked beside
him, he felt as though he were alone, straying in the dark. And the
darkness seized him and slowly drew him along, and he felt that he was
drawn somewhere, and yet had no desire to stop. Some sort of fatigue
hindered his thinking; there was no desire in him to resist the
admonitions of his companion--and wh