n afraid to assert his will in the
highest point and has shown his self-will only in little things, like a
schoolboy. I am awfully unhappy, for I'm awfully afraid. Terror is the
curse of man.... But I will assert my will, I am bound to believe that
I don't believe. I will begin and will make an end of it and open the
door, and will save. That's the only thing that will save mankind and
will re-create the next generation physically; for with his present
physical nature man can't get on without his former God, I believe. For
three years I've been seeking for the attribute of my godhead and I've
found it; the attribute of my godhead is self-will! That's all I can
do to prove in the highest point my independence and my new terrible
freedom. For it is very terrible. I am killing myself to prove my
independence and my new terrible freedom."

His face was unnaturally pale, and there was a terribly heavy look in
his eyes. He was like a man in delirium. Pyotr Stepanovitch thought he
would drop on to the floor.

"Give me the pen!" Kirillov cried suddenly, quite unexpectedly, in a
positive frenzy. "Dictate; I'll sign anything. I'll sign that I killed
Shatov even. Dictate while it amuses me. I am not afraid of what the
haughty slaves will think! You will see for yourself that all that is
secret shall be made manifest! And you will be crushed.... I believe, I
believe!"

Pyotr Stepanoviteh jumped up from his seat and instantly handed him an
inkstand and paper, and began dictating, seizing the moment, quivering
with anxiety.

"I, Alexey Kirillov, declare..."

"Stay; I won't! To whom am I declaring it?"

Kirillov was shaking as though he were in a fever. This declaration and
the sudden strange idea of it seemed to absorb him entirely, as though
it were a means of escape by which his tortured spirit strove for a
moment's relief.

"To whom am I declaring it? I want to know to whom?"

"To no one, every one, the first person who reads it. Why define it? The
whole world!"

"The whole world! Bravo! And I won't have any repentance. I don't want
penitence and I don't want it for the police!"

"No, of course, there's no need of it, damn the police! Write, if you
are in earnest!" Pyotr Stepanovitch cried hysterically.

"Stay! I want to put at the top a face with the tongue out."

"Ech, what nonsense," cried Pyotr Stepanovitch crossly, "you can express
all that without the drawing, by--the tone."

"By the tone? That's true. Yes,