"Wait; I am telling you why these books are written," Osip interrupted Phoma's angry words. "It is a very cunning idea! Here we have a gentleman without a _muzhik;_ here a _muzhik_ without a gentleman! Look now! Both the gentleman and the _muzhik_ are badly off. The gentleman grows weak, crazy, and the _muzhik_ becomes boastful, drunken, sickly, and offensive. That's what happens! But in his lord's castle it was better, they say. The lord hid himself behind the _muzhik_ and the _muzhik_ behind the master, and so they went round and round, well-fed, and peaceful. I don't deny that it was more peaceful living with the nobles. It was no advantage to the lord if his _muzhik_ was poor, but it was to his good if he was rich and intelligent. He was then a weapon in his hand. I know all about it; you see I lived in a nobleman's domain for nearly forty years. There's a lot of my experience written on my hide." I remembered that the carter, Petr, who committed suicide, used to talk in the same way about the nobility, and it was very unpleasant to my mind that the ideas of Osip should run on the same lines as those of that evil old man. Osip touched my leg with his hand, and went on: "One must understand books and all sorts of writings. No one does anything without a reason, and books are not written for nothing, but to muddle people's heads. Every one is created with intelligence, without which no one can wield an ax, or sew a shoe." He spoke for a long time, and lay down. Again he jumped up, throwing gently his well turned, quaint phrases into the darkness and quietness. "They say that the nobles are quite a different race from the peasants, but it is not true. We are just like the nobles, only we happen to have been born low down in the scale. Of course a noble learns from books, while I learn by my own noddle, and a gentleman has a delicate skin; that is all the difference. No--o, lads, it is time there was a new way of living; all these writings ought to be thrown aside! Let every one ask himself 'What am I?' A man! 'And what is he?' Also a man! What then? Does God need his superfluous wealth? No-o, we are equal in the sight of God when it comes to gifts." At last, in the morning, when the dawn had put out the light of the stars, Osip said to me: "You see how I could write? I have talked about things that I have never thought about. But you mustn't place too much faith in what I say. I was talking more because I was sleepless than with any serious intention. You lie down and think of something to amuse you. Once there was a raven which flew from the fields to the hills, from boundary to boundary, and lived beyond her time; the Lord punished her. The raven is dead and dried up. What is the meaning of that? There is no meaning in it, none. Now go to sleep; it will soon be time to get up." CHAPTER XVIII