IVÁN PETRÓVICH. Here's to your ... great journey! You know I'm above all this. I'm not going to restrain you! Life and death are alike to Genius. I die in life, and live in death. You will kill yourself that two people should pity you; and I--I shall kill myself that the whole world may understand what it has lost. I won't hesitate, or think about it! I seize it [snatches revolver]--now! And all is over. But it is too soon yet. [Lays down revolver] Nor shall I write anything; they must understand it themselves.... Oh, you ... FÉDYA [writing] Wait a bit. IVÁN PETRÓVICH. Pitiful people! They fuss, they bustle, and don't understand--don't understand anything at all.... I'm not talking to you, I am only expressing my thoughts. And, after all, what does humanity need? Very little--only to value its geniuses. But they always are executed, persecuted, tortured.... No! I'm not going to be your toy! I will drag you out into the open! No-o-o! Hypocrites! FÉDYA [having finished writing, drinks and reads over his letter] Go away, please! IVÁN PETRÓVICH. Go away? Well, good-bye then! I am not going to restrain you. I shall do the same. But not yet. I only want to tell you ... FÉDYA. All right! You'll tell me afterwards. And now, dear chap, just one thing: give this to the manager [gives him money] and ask if a parcel and a letter have come for me.... Please do! IVÁN PETRÓVICH. All right--then you'll wait for me? I have still something important to tell you--something that you will not hear in this world nor in the next, at any rate not till I come there.... Am I to let him have _all_ of this? FÉDYA. As much as is necessary. [Exit Iván Petróvich.] Fédya sighs with relief; locks the door behind Iván Petróvich; takes up the revolver, cocks it, puts it to his temple; shudders, and carefully lowers it again. Groans. FÉDYA. No; I can't! I can't! I can't! [Knock at the door] Who's there? [Másha's voice from outside] It's me! FÉDYA. Who's "me"? Oh, Másha ... [opens door]. MÁSHA. I've been to your place, to Popóv's, to Afrémov's, and guessed that you must be here. [Sees revolver] That's a nice thing! There's a fool! A regular fool! Is it possible you really meant to? FÉDYA. No, I couldn't. MÁSHA. Do I count for nothing at all? You heathen! You had no pity for me? Oh, Theodore Vasílyevich, it's a sin, a sin! In return for my love ... FÉDYA. I wished to release them. I promised to, and I can't lie. MÁSHA. And what about me? FÉDYA. What about you? It would have set you free too. Is it better for you to be tormented by me? MÁSHA. Seems it's better. I can't live without you. FÉDYA. What sort of life could you have with me? You'd have cried a bit, and then gone on living your own life. MÁSHA. I shouldn't have cried at all! Go to the devil, if you don't pity me! [Cries]. FÉDYA. Másha, dearest! I meant to do it for the best. MÁSHA. Best for yourself! FÉDYA [smiles] How's that, when I meant to kill myself?