a Mihailovna.

'No. It is only my--_c'est nerveux_.'

'Allow me to inquire,' Pigasov was beginning again in his nasal tones,
'your friend, his excellency Baron Muffel--I think that's his name?'

'Precisely.'

'Does his excellency Baron Muffel make a special study of political
economy, or does he only devote to that interesting subject the hours of
leisure left over from his social amusements and his official duties?'

Rudin looked steadily at Pigasov.

'The baron is an amateur on this subject,' he replied, growing rather
red, 'but in his essay there is much that is interesting and just.'

'I am not able to dispute it with you; I have not read the essay. But I
venture to ask--the work of your friend Baron Muffel is no doubt founded
more upon general propositions than upon facts?'

'It contains both facts and propositions founded upon the facts.'

'Yes, yes. I must tell you that, in my opinion--and I've a right to give
my opinion, on occasion; I spent three years at Dorpat... all these,
so-called general propositions, hypotheses, these systems--excuse me,
I am a provincial, I speak the truth bluntly--are absolutely worthless.
All that's only theorising--only good for misleading people. Give us
facts, sir, and that's enough!'

'Really!' retorted Rudin, 'why, but ought not one to give the
significance of the facts?'

'General propositions,' continued Pigasov, 'they're my abomination,
these general propositions, theories, conclusions. All that's based on
so-called convictions; every one is talking about his convictions, and
attaches importance to them, prides himself on them. Ah!'

And Pigasov shook his fist in the air. Pandalevsky laughed.

'Capital!' put in Rudin, 'it follows that there is no such thing as
conviction according to you?'

'No, it doesn't exist.'

'Is that your conviction?'

'Yes.'

'How do you say that there are none then? Here you have one at the very
first turn.'

All in the room smiled and looked at one another.

'One minute, one minute, but----,' Pigasov was beginning.

But Darya Mihailovna clapped her hands crying, 'Bravo, bravo, Pigasov's
beaten!' and she gently took Rudin's hat from his hand.

'Defer your delight a little, madam; there's plenty of time!' Pigasov
began with annoyance. 'It's not sufficient to say a witty word, with a
show of superiority; you must prove, refute. We had wandered from the
subject of our discussion.'

'With your permission,' remarked Rudin, cooll