Page:The Novels of Ivan Turgenev (volume VII).djvu/156

Rh is there in you? Do me the favour to let me alone!"

'And another thing. I've noticed if any one listens to you very readily, takes pamphlets at once, you may be sure he's one of the wrong sort, a featherhead; or you'll come on a fine talker, an educated fellow, who can do nothing but keep repeating some favourite expression. One, for instance, simply drove me distracted; everything with him was "product." Whatever you say to him, he keeps on, "To be sure a product!" Ugh, to the devil with him. One remark more. Do you remember at one time, a long while ago, there used to be a great deal of talk about "superfluous" people—Hamlets? Fancy, such "superfluous" people are to be found now among the peasants! with a special tone of their own, of course. Moreover, they're for the most part of consumptive build. Interesting types, and they come to us readily; but for the cause they're no good—just like the Hamlets of former days. Come, what is one to do, then? Found a secret printing-press? Why, there are books enough as it is, both of the sort, "Cross yourself and take up the hatchet," and the sort that say, "Take up the hatchet" simply. Write novels of peasant life, filled out with padding? They wouldn't get printed, most likely. Or first take up the