it from you; I forgot it."

Karmazinov greedily snatched the manuscript, carefully examined it,
counted the pages, and laid it respectfully beside him on a special
table, for the time, in such a way that he would not lose sight of it
for an instant.

"You don't read very much, it seems?" he hissed, unable to restrain
himself.

"No, not very much."

"And nothing in the way of Russian literature?"

"In the way of Russian literature? Let me see, I have read
something.... 'On the Way' or 'Away!' or 'At the Parting of the Ways'--
something of the sort; I don't remember. It's a long time since I read
it, five years ago. I've no time."

A silence followed.

"When I came I assured every one that you were a very intelligent man,
and now I believe every one here is wild over you."

"Thank you," Pyotr Stepanovitch answered calmly.

Lunch was brought in. Pyotr Stepanovitch pounced on the cutlet with
extraordinary appetite, had eaten it in a trice, tossed off the wine and
swallowed his coffee.

"This boor," thought Karmazinov, looking at him askance as he munched
the last morsel and drained the last drops--"this boor probably
understood the biting taunt in my words... and no doubt he has read
the manuscript with eagerness; he is simply lying with some object. But
possibly he is not lying and is only genuinely stupid. I like a genius
to be rather stupid. Mayn't he be a sort of genius among them? Devil
take the fellow!"

He got up from the sofa and began pacing from one end of the room to the
other for the sake of exercise, as he always did after lunch.

"Leaving here soon?" asked Pyotr Stepanovitch from his easy chair,
lighting a cigarette.

"I really came to sell an estate and I am in the hands of my bailiff."

"You left, I believe, because they expected an epidemic out there after
the war?"

"N-no, not entirely for that reason," Mr. Karmazinov went on, uttering
his phrases with an affable intonation, and each time he turned round in
pacing the corner there was a faint but jaunty quiver of his right leg.
"I certainly intend to live as long as I can." He laughed, not without
venom. "There is something in our Russian nobility that makes them wear
out very quickly, from every point of view. But I wish to wear out as
late as possible, and now I am going abroad for good; there the climate
is better, the houses are of stone, and everything stronger. Europe will
last my time, I think. What do you think?"

"How can I t