"If a man takes up this work," he began thoughtfully in a moderated
voice, "then his entire soul is needed."
Pyotr timidly assented:
"Yes, he mustn't look back."
"The work has spread very widely," continued Stepan.
"Over the whole earth," added Pyotr.
They both spoke like men walking in darkness, groping for the way
with their feet. The mother leaned against the wall, and throwing
back her head listened to their careful utterances. Tatyana arose,
looked around, and sat down again. Her green eyes gleamed dryly as
she looked into the peasants' faces with dissatisfaction and contempt.
"It seems you've been through a lot of misery," she said, suddenly
turning to the mother.
"I have."
"You speak well. You draw--you draw the heart after your talk.
It makes me think, it makes me think, 'God! If I could only take
a peep at such people and at life through a chink!' How does one
live? What life has one? The life of sheep. Here am I; I can
read and write; I read books, I think a whole lot. Sometimes I
don't even sleep the entire night because I think. And what sense
is there in it? If I don't think, my existence is a purposeless
existence; and if I do, it is also purposeless.
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