"To kill anything living because one wants to eat, that's ugly
enough. To kill a beast--a beast of prey--that I can understand.
I think I myself could kill a man who had turned into a beast preying
upon mankind. But to kill such a disgusting, pitiful creature--I
don't understand how anyone could lift his hand for an act like that!"
The Little Russian raised his shoulders and dropped them again;
then said:
"He was no less noxious than a beast."
"I know."
"We kill a mosquito for sucking just a tiny bit of our blood," the
Little Russian added in a low voice.
"Well, yes, I am not saying anything about that. I only mean to
say it's so disgusting."
"What can you do?" returned Andrey with another shrug of his shoulders.
After a long pause Pavel asked:
"Could you kill a fellow like that?"
The Little Russian regarded him with his round eyes, threw a glance
at the mother, and said sadly, but firmly:
"For myself, I wouldn't touch a living thing. But for comrades,
for the cause, I am capable of everything. I'd even kill. I'd
kill my own son."
"Oh, Andriusha!" the mother exclaimed under her breath.
He smiled and said:
"It can't be helped! Such is our life!"
"Ye-es," Pavel drawled.
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