blishing, and you haven't the right..."
Liputin was obviously enjoying himself.

"I beg your pardon, perhaps I made a mistake in calling your literary
work an article. He is only collecting observations, and the essence of
the question, or, so to say, its moral aspect he is not touching at all.
And, indeed, he rejects morality itself altogether, and holds with the
last new principle of general destruction for the sake of ultimate
good. He demands already more than a hundred million heads for the
establishment of common sense in Europe; many more than they demanded at
the last Peace Congress. Alexey Nilitch goes further than anyone in that
sense." The engineer listened with a pale and contemptuous smile. For
half a minute every one was silent.

"All this is stupid, Liputin," Mr. Kirillov observed at last, with a
certain dignity. "If I by chance had said some things to you, and you
caught them up again, as you like. But you have no right, for I never
speak to anyone. I scorn to talk.... If one has a conviction then it's
clear to me.... But you're doing foolishly. I don't argue about things
when everything's settled. I can't bear arguing. I never want to
argue...."

"And perhaps you are very wise," Stepan Trofimovitch could not resist
saying.

"I apologise to you, but I am not angry with anyone here," the visitor
went on, speaking hotly and rapidly. "I have seen few people for four
years. For four years I have talked little and have tried to see no one,
for my own objects which do not concern anyone else, for four years.
Liputin found this out and is laughing. I understand and don't mind. I'm
not ready to take offence, only annoyed at his liberty. And if I don't
explain my ideas to you," he concluded unexpectedly, scanning us all
with resolute eyes, "it's not at all that I'm afraid of your giving
information to the government; that's not so; please do not imagine
nonsense of that sort."

No one made any reply to these words. We only looked at each other. Even
Liputin forgot to snigger.

"Gentlemen, I'm very sorry"--Stepan Trofimovitch got up resolutely from
the sofa--"but I feel ill and upset. Excuse me."

"Ach, that's for us to go." Mr. Kirillov started, snatching up his cap.
"It's a good thing you told us. I'm so forgetful."

He rose, and with a good-natured air went up to Stepan Trofimovitch,
holding out his hand.

"I'm sorry you're not well, and I came."

"I wish you every success among us," answered Stepa