“Would you, please, tell me,” he began, irresistibly impelled to wound Sanine, “why you always talk as if you were teaching little children?” Von Deitz, feeling uneasy at this speech, uttered something conciliatory, and rattled his spurs. “What do you mean by that?” asked Sanine sharply, “why are you so angry?” Yourii felt that his speech was discourteous, and that he ought not to go any farther, yet his wounded self-respect drove him to add: “Such a tone is really most unpleasant.” “It is my usual tone,” replied Sanine, partly annoyed, and partly anxious to appease the other. “Well, it is not always a suitable one,” continued Yourii, raising his voice, “I really fail to see what gives you such assurance.” “Probably the consciousness of being more intelligent than you are,” replied Sanine, now quite calm. Yourii stood still, trembling from head to foot. “Look here!” he exclaimed hoarsely. “Don’t get angry!” interposed Sanine. “I had no wish to offend you, and only expressed my candid opinion. It is the same opinion that you have of me, and that Von Deitz has of both of us, and so on. It is only natural.” Sanine spoke in such a frank, friendly way that to show further displeasure would have been absurd. Yourii was silent, and Von Deitz, being still concerned on his behalf, again rattled his spurs and breathed hard. “At any rate I don’t tell you my opinion to your face,” murmured Yourii. “No; and that is where you are wrong. I was listening to your discussion just now, and the offensive spirit prompted every word you said. It is merely a question of form. I say what I think, but you don’t say what you think; and that is not in the least interesting. If we were all more sincere, it would be far more amusing for everybody.” Von Deitz laughed loudly. “What an original idea!” he exclaimed. Yourii did not reply. His anger had subsided, and he felt almost pleased, though it irked him to think that he had got the worst of it, and would not admit this. “Such a state of things might be somewhat too primitive,” added Von Deitz sententiously. “Then, you had rather that it were complicated and obscure?” asked Sanine. Von Deitz shrugged his shoulders, lost in thought. CHAPTER XXV. Leaving the boulevard behind them, they passed along the dreary streets lying outside the town, though they were better lighted than the boulevard. The wood-pavement stood out clearly against the black ground, and above loomed the pale cloud-covered heaven, where here and there stars gleamed.