I don't
want to let them learn on my back how to beat others!"
His eyes now sparkled with a cold gleam; he inclined his head
doggedly, and continued in a more resolute tone:
"I must not forgive anything that is noxious, even though it does
not hurt! I'm not alone in the world. If I allow myself to be
insulted to-day--maybe I can afford to laugh at the insult, maybe
it doesn't sting me at all--but, having tested his strength on me,
the offender will proceed to flay some one else the next day! That's
why one is compelled to discriminate between people, to keep a firm
grip on one's heart, and to classify mankind--these belong to me,
those are strangers."
The mother thought of the officer and Sashenka, and said with a sigh:
"What sort of bread can you expect from unbolted meal?"
"That's it; that's the trouble!" the Little Russian exclaimed.
"You must look with two kinds of eyes; two hearts throb in your
bosom. The one loves all; the other says: 'Halt! You mustn't!'"
The figure of her husband, somber and ponderous, like a huge
moss-covered stone, now rose in her memory. She made a mental
image for herself of the Little Russian as married to Natasha,
and her son as the husband of Sashenka.
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