Lunev looked round his little room at Masha sitting on the bed, motionless with downcast expression, into the shop where Gavrik was having his tea, into the street, through the railed-in window, and continued with despair in his soul, excitedly, angrily, and hoarsely: "It's impossible to live. It's cramped and stupid, and absurd; you find a quiet corner, and there's no peace there! Everything is impure, heavy, painful; you can't understand; everything goes wrong, you hear people singing and you think you're happy. But it hurts you to hear their songs if your soul's in pain." "What are you talking of?" asked Pavel, without looking at him. "Of every one," cried Lunev. "I feel now that nothing's any use, damn it! I don't understand, perhaps, well then I don't! But I do understand what I want. I want to live like a man, cleanly, and honourably, and happily! I don't want to see trouble and horrors and sin, and all sorts of beastliness. I don't want it! But----" He stopped and grew pale. "Well?" said Pavel. "No, that's not it. I only meant----" began Lunev, and his voice dropped. "You always speak of yourself," observed Pavel. "And whom do you speak of? Of her? But who is it she troubles, me or you? Every man cares for his own wounds, and groans with his own voice. I don't speak of myself only, I speak of every one, for every one troubles me." "I'll go," said Gratschev, and got up heavily. "Ah," cried Ilya. "Don't be hurt, try to understand. I'm hurt too, and sufferers should understand one another, then it will be clear who it is who torments us." "Brother, it's as though you hit me on the head with a stone. I don't understand. I'm sorry for Vyera--there, I am, really. What can I do? I don't know." "You can't do anything," said Ilya firmly. "I tell you she's done for! They'll condemn her, she's caught in the act." Gratschev sat down again. "But if I declare she did it for me?" "Are you a prince? Say it, and they'll put you in prison too. Anyhow, we must pull things together. You had better have a wash, and you, too, Masha. We're going into the shop, but you get up and tidy yourself, have some tea, make yourself at home." Masha shuddered, raised her head from the pillow and asked: "What, am I to go home?" "No. You're home is where, at any rate, you're not tortured. Come Pasha!" When they were in the shop, Pavel asked gloomily: "Why is she here? She's like a corpse." Lunev told him briefly how matters stood. To his astonishment, Gratschev seemed cheered. "My word, the old devil!" he said, and smiled. Ilya stood by him, looking round his shop, and said: "Theft and lying, and robbery, and drunkenness--all kinds of filth and disorder--that is life. You don't want it, but it's all the same, you go down the same stream as the rest and the same water soaks you; live as you have to! You can't get out of it anyhow. Run away to the forest? or a monastery? You told me a little while ago that I should find no peace here."