and said:

"All my life, I suppose, I won't be able to wash off that dirty stain
from it."

"If only your heart is pure, my dear boy!" the mother said softly,
bursting into tears.

"I don't regard myself as guilty; no, I don't!" said the Little Russian
firmly. "But it's disgust. It disgusts me to carry such dirt inside
of me. I had no need of it. It wasn't called for."

"What do you think of doing?" asked Pavel, giving him a suspicious look.

"What am I going to do?" the Little Russian repeated thoughtfully,
drooping his head. Then raising it again he said with a smile: "I am
not afraid, of course, to say that it was I who struck him. But I am
ashamed to say it. I am ashamed to go to prison, and even to hard
labor, maybe, for such a--nothing. If some one else is accused, then
I'll go and confess. But otherwise, go all of my own accord--I cannot!"

He waved his hands, rose, and repeated:

"I cannot! I am ashamed!"

The whistle blew. The Little Russian, bending his head to one side,
listened to the powerful roar, and shaking himself, said:

"I am not going to work."

"Nor I," said Pavel.

"I'll go to the bath house," said the Little Russian, smiling. He got
ready in silence and walked off, sullen and low-spirited.

The mother followed him with a compassionate look.

"Say what you please, Pasha, I cannot believe him! And even if I did
believe him, I wouldn't lay any blame on him. No, I would not. I know
it's sinful to kill a man; I believe in God and in the Lord Jesus
Christ, but still I don't think Andrey guilty. I'm sorry for Isay.
He's such a tiny bit of a manikin. He lies there in astonishment. When
I looked at him I remembered how he threatened to have you hanged. And
yet I neither felt hatred toward him nor joy because he was dead. I
simply felt sorry. But now that I know by whose hand he fell I am not
even sorry for him."

She suddenly became silent, reflected a while, and with a smile of
surprise, exclaimed:

"Lord Jesus Christ! Do you hear what I am saying, Pasha?"

Pavel apparently had not heard her. Slowly pacing up and down the room
with drooping head, he said pensively and with exasperation:

"Andrey won't forgive himself soon, if he'll forgive himself at all!
There is life for you, mother. You see the position in which people
are placed toward one another. You don't want to, but you must strike!
And strike whom? Such a helpless being. He is more wretched even than