"Why shout?" comes in the cold sad voice of Martyanoff. "Why judge others? Merchants, noblemen. . .what have we to do with them?" "Seeing what we are" . . . puts in Deacon Taras. "Be quiet, Abyedok," says the teacher good-naturedly. "Why do you provoke him?" He does not love either discussion or noise, and when they quarrel all around him his lips form into a sickly grimace, and he endeavors quietly and reasonably to reconcile each with the other, and if he does not succeed in this he leaves the company. Knowing this, the Captain, if he is not very drunk, controls himself, not wishing to lose, in the person of the teacher, one of the best of his listeners. "I repeat," he continues, in a quieter tone, "that I see life in the hands of enemies, not only enemies of the noble but of everything good, avaricious and incapable of adorning existence in any way." "But all the same, says the teacher, "merchants, so to speak, created Genoa, Venice, Holland--and all these were merchants, merchants from England, India, the Stroyanoff merchants. . . ." "I do not speak of these men, I am thinking of Judas Petunikoff, who is one of them. . . ." "And you say you have nothing to do with them?" asks the teacher quietly. "But do you think that I do not live? Aha! I do live, but I suppose I ought not to be angry at the fact that life is desecrated and robbed of all freedom by these men." "And they dare to laugh at the kindly anger of the Captain, a man living in retirement?" says Abyedok teasingly. "Very well! I agree with you that I am foolish. Being a creature who was once a man, I ought to blot out from my heart all those feelings that once were mine. You may be right, but then how could I or any of you defend ourselves if we did away with all these feelings?" "Now then, you are talking sense," says the teacher encouragingly. "We want other feelings and other views on life . . . We want something new. . .because we ourselves are a novelty in this life. . . ." "Doubtless this is most important for us," remarks the teacher. "Why?" asks Kanets. "Is it not all the same whatever we say or think? We have not got long to live I am forty, you are fifty . . . there is no one among us younger than thirty, and even at twenty one cannot live such a life long." "And what kind of novelty are we?" asked Abyedok mockingly. "Since nakedness has always existed" "Yes, and it created Rome," said the teacher. "Yes, of course," says the Captain, beaming with joy. "Romulus and Remus, eh? We also shall create when our time comes. . . ." "Violation of public peace," interrupts Abyedok. He laughs in a self-satisfied way. His laughter is impudent and insolent, and is echoed by Simtsoff, the Deacon and Paltara Taras. The naive eyes of young Meteor light up, and his cheeks flush crimson. Kanets speaks, and it seems as if he were hammering their heads. "All these are foolish illusions . . . fiddlesticks!"