"
He rose, approached her, and shaking his head, said:
"Is there an unwronged soul anywhere in the wide world? But I have
been wronged so much that I have ceased to feel wronged. What's
to be done if people cannot help acting as they do? The wrongs I
undergo hinder me greatly in my work. It is impossible to avoid
them. But to stop and pay attention to them is useless waste of
time. Such a life! Formerly I would occasionally get angry--but
I thought to myself: all around me I see people broken in heart.
It seemed as if each one were afraid that his neighbor would strike
him, and so he tried to get ahead and strike the other first. Such
a life it is, mother dear."
His speech flowed on serenely. He resolutely distracted her mind
from alarm at the expected police search. His luminous, protuberant
eyes smiled sadly. Though ungainly, he seemed made of stuff that
bends but never breaks.
The mother sighed and uttered the warm wish:
"May God grant you happiness, Andriusha!"
The Little Russian stalked to the samovar with long strides, sat in
front of it again on his heels, and mumbled:
"If he gives me happiness, I will not decline it; ask for it I won't,
to seek it I have no time.
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