Page:The Novels of Ivan Turgenev (volume X).djvu/282

Rh I am one of you, comrades! . One of us, indeed! That's a notion! Look at my hands. D' ye see how dirty they are? And they smell of muck, and of pitch—but yours, see, are white. And what do they smell of? (offering his hands). Smell them. (sniffing his hands). That 's a queer start. Seems like a smell of iron. . Yes; iron it is. For six long years I wore chains on them. . And what was that for, pray? . Why, because I worked for your good; tried to set free the oppressed and the ignorant; stirred folks up against your oppressors; resisted the authorities. ... So they locked me up. . Locked you up, did they? Serve you right for resisting!

. I say, Pete. . . . Do you remember, the year before last, a chap with white hands talking to you?