That's very much like Sasha's position,
really. Finally they exiled her to Siberia for ten years. I wanted
to follow her, but I was ashamed and she was ashamed, and I remained
here. Then she met another man--a comrade of mine, a very good
fellow, and they escaped together. Now they live abroad. Yes----"
Nikolay took off his glasses, wiped them, held them up to the light
and began to wipe them again.
"Ah, you, my dear!" the mother exclaimed lovingly, shaking her head.
She was sorry for him; at the same time something compelled her to
smile a warm, motherly smile. He changed his pose, took the pen in
his hand, and said, punctuating the rhythm of his speed with waves
of his hand:
"Family life always diminishes the energy of a revolutionist.
Children must be maintained in security, and there's the need to
work a great deal for one's bread. The revolutionist ought without
cease to develop every iota of his energy; he must deepen and
broaden it; but this demands time. He must always be at the head,
because we--the workingmen--are called by the logic of history to
destroy the old world, to create the new life; and if we stop, if we
yield to exhaustion, or are attracted by the possibility of a little
immediate conquest, it's bad--it's almost treachery to the cause.
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