"I only meant," cried the schoolboy with tremendous excitement, "to say that though conventions of course are stale and must be eradicated, yet about name-days everybody knows that they are stupid and very stale to waste precious time upon, which has been wasted already all over the world, so that it would be as well to sharpen one's wits on something more useful...." "You drag it out so, one can't understand what you mean," shouted the girl. "I think that every one has a right to express an opinion as well as every one else, and if I want to express my opinion like anybody else..." "No one is attacking your right to give an opinion," the lady of the house herself cut in sharply. "You were only asked not to ramble because no one can make out what you mean." "But allow me to remark that you are not treating me with respect. If I couldn't fully express my thought, it's not from want of thought but from too much thought," the schoolboy muttered, almost in despair, losing his thread completely. "If you don't know how to talk, you'd better keep quiet," blurted out the girl. The schoolboy positively jumped from his chair. "I only wanted to state," he shouted, crimson with shame and afraid to look about him, "that you only wanted to show off your cleverness because Mr. Stavrogin came in--so there!" "That's a nasty and immoral idea and shows the worthlessness of your development. I beg you not to address me again," the girl rattled off. "Stavrogin," began the lady of the house, "they've been discussing the rights of the family before you came--this officer here"--she nodded towards her relation, the major--"and, of course, I am not going to worry you with such stale nonsense, which has been dealt with long ago. But how have the rights and duties of the family come about in the superstitious form in which they exist at present? That's the question. What's your opinion?" "What do you mean by 'come about'?" Stavrogin asked in his turn. "We know, for instance, that the superstition about God came from thunder and lightning." The girl-student rushed into the fray again, staring at Stavrogin with her eyes almost jumping out of her head. "It's well known that primitive man, scared by thunder and lightning, made a god of the unseen enemy, feeling their weakness before it. But how did the superstition of the family arise? How did the family itself arise?" "That's not quite the same thing...." Madame Virginsky tried to check her. "I think the answer to this question wouldn't be quite discreet," answered Stavrogin. "How so?" said the girl-student, craning forward suddenly. But there was an audible titter in the group of teachers, which was at once caught up at the other end by Lyamshin and the schoolboy and followed by a hoarse chuckle from the major. "You ought to write vaudevilles," Madame Virginsky observed to Stavrogin. "It does you no credit, I don't know what your name is," the girl rapped out with positive indignation.