“There’s one thing that you want,” said Sanine, pensively. “And what is that?” “A just conception of life. The monotony of your existence oppresses you; and yet, if some one advised you to give it all up, and go straight away into the wide world, you would be afraid to do so.” “And as what should I go? As a beggar? H .. m!” “Yes, as a beggar, even! When I look at you, I think: there is a man who in order to give the Russian Empire a constitution would let himself be shut up in Schlusselburg[1] for the rest of his life, losing all his rights, and his liberty as well. After all, what is a constitution to him? But when it is a question of altering his own tedious mode of life, and of going elsewhere to find new interests, he at once asks, ‘how should I get a living? Strong and healthy as I am, should I not come to grief if I had not got my fixed salary, and consequently cream in my tea, my silk shirts, stand-up collars, and all the rest of it?’ It’s funny, upon my word it is!” [1] A fortress for political prisoners. “I cannot see anything funny in it at all. In the first case, it is the question of a cause, an idea, whereas in the other—” “Well?” “Oh! I don’t know how to express myself!” And Novikoff snapped his fingers. “There now!” said Sanine, interrupting. “That’s how you always evade the point. I shall never believe that the longing for a constitution is stronger in you than the longing to make the most of your own life.” “That is just a question. Possibly it is.” Sanine waved his hand, irritably. “Oh! don’t, please! If somebody were to cut off your finger, you would feel it more than if it were some other Russian’s finger. That is a fact, eh?” “Or a cynicism,” said Novikoff, meaning to be sarcastic when he was merely foolish. “Possibly. But, all the same, it is the truth. And now though in Russia and in many other States there is no constitution, nor the slightest sign of one, it is your own unsatisfactory life that worries you, not the absence of a constitution. And if you say it isn’t, then you’re telling a lie. What is more,” added Sanine, with a merry twinkle in his eyes, “you are worried not about your life but because Lida has not yet fallen in love with you. Now, isn’t that so?” “What utter nonsense you’re talking!” cried Novikoff, turning as red as his silk shirt. So confused was he, that tears rose to his calm, kindly eyes. “How is it nonsense, when besides Lida you can see nothing else in the whole world? The wish to possess her is written in large letters on your brow.” Novikoff winced perceptibly and began to walk rapidly up and down the path. If anyone but Lida’s brother had spoken to him in this way it would have pained him deeply, but to hear such words from Sanine’s mouth amazed him; in fact at first he scarcely understood them. “Look here,” he muttered, “either you are posing, or else—” “Or else—what?” asked Sanine, smiling.