He grumbled kindly, and Yevsey felt a desire to ask more questions. They did not formulate themselves, however. The old man lighted a cigarette, the smoke enveloped him, and he apparently forgot about his interlocutor. Klimkov glided off quietly. His attraction for the Smokestack had grown stronger, and he thought: "It would be good for me to sit nearer to him." Henceforth this became his dream, which, however, came into direct conflict with the dream of Yakov Zarubin. "You know what?" Zarubin said in a hot whisper. "Let's try to get into the Department of Safety, and become political spies. Then what a life we'll lead! Ugh!" Yevsey was silent. The political spies frightened him because of their stern eyes and the mystery surrounding their dark business and dark life. CHAPTER X An accident happened at home. Dorimedont appeared late at night in torn clothes, without hat or cane, his face bruised and smeared with blood. His bulky body shook, tears ran down his swollen cheeks. He sobbed, and said in a hollow voice: "It's all over! I must go away--to another city--the minute I can." Rayisa silently, without haste, wiped his face with a towel dipped in brandy and water. He started and groaned. "Not so rough! Not so rough! The beasts! How they beat me--with clubs. To beat a man with clubs! _Please_ be more careful. Don't you understand?" Yevsey handed the water, removed the spy's shoes, and listened to his groans. He took secret satisfaction in his tears and blood. Accustomed as he was to see people beaten until blood was drawn, their outcries did not touch him even though he remembered the pain of the pummelings he had received in his childhood. "Who did it to you?" asked Rayisa when the spy was settled in bed. "They trapped me, surrounded me, in a suburb near a thread factory. Now I must go to another city. I will ask for a transfer." When Yevsey lay down to sleep, the spy and Rayisa began to quarrel aloud. "I won't go," said the woman in a loud and unusually firm voice. "Keep quiet! Don't excite a sick man!" the spy exclaimed with tears in his voice. "I won't go!" "I will make you." In the morning Yevsey understood by Rayisa's stony face and the spy's angry excitement that the two did not agree. At supper they began to quarrel again. The spy, who had grown stronger during the day, cursed and swore. His swollen blue face was horrible to look upon, his right hand was in a sling, and he shook his left hand menacingly. Rayisa, pale and imperturbable, rolled her round eyes, and followed the swinging of his red hand. "Never, I'll never go," she stubbornly repeated, scarcely varying her words. "Why not?" "I don't want to." "But you know I can ruin you." "I don't care." "No, you'll go." "I won't." "We shall see. Who are you anyway? Have you forgotten?" "It's all the same to me." "All right."