“Yes-s, I’ve managed, as you see. Whether they are slanders is quite another matter. I can only say that they fit you somehow. Take, for instance, those perverse habits of yours; need I recall them to you? I could remind you, if I wished, of certain facts from your early life.” “You know you are talking nonsense,” said Trirodov. “It is reported,” went on Ostrov, “that all this is being repeated in the quiet of your asylum.” “Even if it were all true,” said Trirodov, “I do not see that you have anything to gain by it.” Trirodov’s eyes had a tranquil look. He seemed remote. His voice had a calm, hollow sound. Ostrov exclaimed vehemently: “Don’t imagine for a moment that I have fallen into a trap. If I don’t leave this place, I have prepared something that will send you to gaol.” “Nonsense,” said Trirodov as quietly as before. “I’m not afraid. In the last resort I can emigrate.” “I suppose you’ll put on the mantle of a political exile,” laughed Ostrov. “It’s useless! Our police, they’ll keep a sharp look-out for you, clever fellows that they are. Never fear, they’ll get you. They’ll get you anywhere. You may be sure of that.” “They’ll not give me up where I’m going,” said Trirodov. “It’s a safe place, and you’ll not be able to reach me there.” “What sort of place have you prepared for yourself?” asked Ostrov, smiling malignantly. “Or is it a secret?” “It is the moon,” was Trirodov’s simple and tranquil answer. Ostrov laughed boisterously. Trirodov added: “Moreover, the moon has been created by me. She is before my window, ready to take me.” Ostrov jumped up in great rage from his place, stamped violently with his feet, and shouted: “You are laughing at me! It is useless. You can’t fool me with those stupid fairy-tales of yours. Tell those sweet little stories to the silly little girls of the provinces. I’m an old sparrow. You can’t feed me on chaff.” Trirodov remained unruffled. “You’re fuming all for nothing. I’ll help you with money on a condition.” “What sort of condition?” asked Ostrov with restrained anger. “You’ll have to go from here--very far--for always,” answered Trirodov. “I’ll have to think that over,” said Ostrov. “I give you a week. Come to me exactly within a week, and you’ll receive the money.” Ostrov suddenly felt an incomprehensible fear. He experienced the feeling of having passed into another’s power. He felt oppressed. A stern smile marked Trirodov’s face. He said quietly: “You are of such little value that I could kill you without scruple--like a snake. But I am tired even of other people’s murders.” “My value?” Ostrov muttered hoarsely and absurdly. “What is your value?” went on Trirodov. “You are a hired murderer, a spy, a traitor.” Ostrov said in a meek voice: “Nevertheless, I’ve not betrayed you so far.” “Because it wouldn’t pay, that’s why you’ve not betrayed me. Again, you dare not.” “What do you want me to do?” asked Ostrov humbly. “What is your condition? Where do you want me to go?”