"What's the sense? It's very simple. Not to be clear where you're going's like trying to burn without fire, isn't it? You must know where you're going, and why, and if it's the right road." "You're like an old man, Jakov--you're a bit of a bore. My opinion is, as the proverb says: 'Seeing that even swine long to be happy, how should man do otherwise.' Good-bye!" After such conversation, he felt as though he had eaten something very salt; he was overcome with thirst, and longed for something out of the common. The thought of the punishment God held over him burned more brightly in him and singed his soul; he sought for loneliness and could not find it. Then he would go to Olympiada, and in her arms seek forgetfulness and peace from torturing thought. Sometimes he would go to see Vyera. The life she led had drawn her deeper and deeper into its deep turbid whirlpool. She used to tell Ilya with excitement, of feasting with rich young tradesmen, with officials and officers, of suppers in restaurants and troika excursions. She showed him new dresses and jackets, the gifts of her admirers. Luxurious, strong, and healthy, she was proud to be entreated and quarrelled over. Ilya rejoiced in her health and good spirits and beauty, but more than once warned her: "Don't lose your head at the game, Vyeratchka." "What's the odds? It's my way. At least, one lives in style. I take all I can get from life. That's enough!" "Well, what about Pavel?" As soon as he named her lover, she lost her gaiety and her brows contracted. "If only he'd let me go my own way! It troubles him so, and he torments himself so! If only he'd be content with what I can give him. But he wants me altogether, and I can't stop now; I'm like a fly caught in the treacle." "Don't you love him?" "I can't help it," she replied, seriously, "he's such a fine fellow." "Very well, then, you ought to live with him." "With him? Nice drag I should be on him! He has barely a bit of bread for himself, how's he to keep me too? No, I'm sorry for him." "Look out that no harm comes of it. He's hot-tempered," Ilya warned her one day; but she laughed. "He? He's as gentle--I can twist him which way I want." "You'll break him!" "Good heavens!" she cried crossly, "what am I to do? Was I born for just one man? Every one wants to enjoy his life, and every one lives for himself, as he pleases, just as you do, and I do." "N--No! it isn't so exactly," said Ilya gloomily and thoughtfully. "We all live, but not only for ourselves." "For whom, then?" "Take yourself, for instance. You live for the young clerks and all sorts of easy-going people." "I'm easy-going too," said Vyera, and laughed contentedly.