The gate to this place is open. Everybody has a right to come in. Mr. Speransky, Tony has been asking for you. He wants the seminarist, he says.
There, go together--a jolly pair. Good-bye, sir, good-bye.
Good-bye. I hope I'll see you soon again, Mr. Savva, and have another talk.
No, don't try, please. Abandon the hope. Good-bye.
How rude you are, Savva. Come, Mr. Speransky. They have business of their own to attend to.
Still I haven't given up hope. Good-bye. _(Goes out)_
Just grabbed me and stuck--the devil take him!
Yes, he is a sticker from the word go. If he likes you, you can't shake him off. He'll follow you everywhere. We call him the "shadow"--partly, I suppose, because he is so thin. He has taken a fancy to you, so you'll have a time of it. He'll stick to you like a leech.
I am not in the habit of wasting a lot of words. I'll give him the slip without much ceremony.
They have, even tried beating him, but it doesn't do any good. He is known here for miles around. He is a character.
_[A pause. Lightning. Every now and then is heard the roll of distant thunder._
Why did you tell me to meet you here in this public place where everyone may come? They fell on me like a swarm of fleas--monks and all sorts of imbeciles. I'd rather have spoken to you in the woods, where we could be let alone.
I did it to escape suspicion. If I went with you to the woods they'd say: "What has a God-fearing man like Kondraty got to do with such a fellow?" I hope you pardon! "Why is he so thick with him?" I purposely timed my coming so that they'd see us together with others.
KONDRATY _(turning away his eyes and shrugging his shoulders)_ I can't.
Perhaps not. You have a right to draw your own conclusions. _(Pause)_
But what are you afraid of, you booby? The machine is not dangerous. It won't hurt you. All you have to do is to put it in the right place, set it off, and then you can go to the village to your mistresses.
What then? Are you afraid of being caught? But I told you, if anything should happen, I'll take the guilt on myself. Don't you believe me?
But you don't believe in God--you believe in the devil.
Who knows? Maybe some day I'll suddenly discover that He does exist. In that case, Mr. Savva, I thank you, but I'd rather not. Why should I? I live a nice, quiet existence. Of course, it's all a humbug, an imposition. But what business is it of mine? The people want to believe--let them. It wasn't I who invented God.