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 "I know the aristocratic prejudices of such men as you and Sergeï Ivanuitch. I know that he is spending all the strength of his mind in defense of the evils that crush us."

"No! but why do you speak of Sergeï Ivanuitch?" asked Levin, smiling.

"Sergeï Ivanuitch? This is why!" cried Nikolaï, at the mention of Sergeï Ivanuitch—"this is why! .... yet what is the good? tell me this—what did you come here for? You despise all this; very good! Go away, for God's sake," he cried, rising from his chair,—"go away! go away!"

"I don't despise anything," said Konstantin, gently; "I only refrain from discussing."

At this moment Marya Nikolayevna came in. Nikolaï looked at her angrily, but she quickly stepped up to him and whispered a few words in his ear.

"I am not well, I easily become irritable," he explained, growing calmer, and breathing with difificulty, "and you just spoke to me about Sergeï Ivanuitch and his article. It is so rubbishy, so idle, so full of error. How can a man, who knows nothing about justice, write about it? Have you read his article?" said he, turning to Kritsky, and then, going to the table, he brushed off the half-rolled cigarettes so as to clear away a little space.

"I have not read it," replied Kritsky, gloomily, evidently not wishing to take part in the conversation.

"Why?" cried Nikolaï, irritably, still addressing Kritsky.

"Because I don't consider it necessary to waste my time on it."

"That is, excuse me—how do you know that it would be a waste of time? For many people this article is inaccessible, because it is above them. But I find it different; I see the thoughts through and through, and know wherein it is weak."

No one replied. Kritsky slowly arose, and took his hat.

"Won't you take some lunch? Well, good-by! Come to-morrow with the locksmith."