ixed his eyes on the
farthest corner.

"The idea had arisen in the society," he went on in the same voice,
"that I might be of use if I killed myself, and that when you get up
some bit of mischief here, and they are looking for the guilty, I might
suddenly shoot myself and leave a letter saying I did it all, so that
you might escape suspicion for another year."

"For a few days, anyway; one day is precious."

"Good. So for that reason they asked me, if I would, to wait. I said I'd
wait till the society fixed the day, because it makes no difference to
me."

"Yes, but remember that you bound yourself not to make up your last
letter without me and that in Russia you would be at my... well, at
my disposition, that is for that purpose only. I need hardly say, in
everything else, of course, you are free," Pyotr Stepanovitch added
almost amiably.

"I didn't bind myself, I agreed, because it makes no difference to me."

"Good, good. I have no intention of wounding your vanity, but..."

"It's not a question of vanity."

"But remember that a hundred and twenty thalers were collected for your
journey, so you've taken money."

"Not at all." Kirillov fired up. "The money was not on that condition.
One doesn't take money for that."

"People sometimes do."

"That's a lie. I sent a letter from Petersburg, and in Petersburg I paid
you a hundred and twenty thalers; I put it in your hand... and it has
been sent off there, unless you've kept it for yourself."

"All right, all right, I don't dispute anything; it has been sent off.
All that matters is that you are still in the same mind."

"Exactly the same. When you come and tell me it's time, I'll carry it
all out. Will it be very soon?"

"Not very many days.... But remember, we'll make up the letter together,
the same night."

"The same day if you like. You say I must take the responsibility for
the manifestoes on myself?"

"And something else too."

"I am not going to make myself out responsible for everything."

"What won't you be responsible for?" said Pyotr Stepanovitch again.

"What I don't choose; that's enough. I don't want to talk about it any
more."

Pyotr Stepanovitch controlled himself and changed the subject.

"To speak of something else," he began, "will you be with us this
evening? It's Virginsky's name-day; that's the pretext for our meeting."

"I don't want to."

"Do me a favour. Do come. You must. We must impress them by our number
and our l