Maybe I'd
prefer to live in the woods. I'd build myself a cabin in the
ravine by the brook and live there. At any rate, I'd live alone."
"Well, go and live that way, if it pleases you," said the Little
Russian, shrugging his shoulders.
"Now?" asked Nikolay. He shook his head in negation and replied,
striking his fist on his knee:
"Now it's impossible!"
"Who's in your way?"
"The people!" Vyesovshchikov retorted brusquely. "I'm hitched to
them even unto death. They've hedged my heart around with hatred
and tied me to themselves with evil. That's a strong tie! I hate
them, and I will not go away; no, never! I'll be in their way.
I'll harass their lives. They are in my way, I'll be in theirs.
I'll answer only for myself, only for myself, and for no one else.
And if my father is a thief----"
"Oh!" said the Little Russian in a low voice, moving up to Nikolay.
"And as for Isay Gorbov, I'll wring his head off! You shall see!"
"What for?" asked the Little Russian in a quiet, earnest voice.
"He shouldn't be a spy; he shouldn't go about denouncing people.
It's through him my father's gone to the dogs, and it's owing to
him that he now is aiming to become a spy," said Vyesovshchikov,
looking at Andrey with a dark, hostile scowl.
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