mong men is physically impossible. But civilised man can
make this inequality innocuous, as he has already done with bogs
and bears. A learned man succeeded in making a cat, a mouse, a
falcon, a sparrow, all eat out of one plate; and education, one
must hope, will do the same thing with men. Life continually
progresses, civilisation makes enormous advances before our eyes,
and obviously a time will come when we shall think, for instance,
the present condition of the factory population as absurd as we now
do the state of serfdom, in which girls were exchanged for dogs."

"That won't be for a long while, a very long while," said Kostya,
with a laugh, "not till Rothschild thinks his cellars full of gold
absurd, and till then the workers may bend their backs and die of
hunger. No; that's not it. We mustn't wait for it; we must struggle
for it. Do you suppose because the cat eats out of the same saucer
as the mouse--do you suppose that she is influenced by a sense
of conscious intelligence? Not a bit of it! She's made to do it by
force."

"Fyodor and I are rich; our father's a capitalist, a millionaire.
You will have to struggle with us," said Laptev, rubbing his forehead
with his hand. "Struggle with me is an idea I cannot grasp. I am
rich, but what has money given me so far? What has this power given
me? In what way am I happier than you? My childhood was slavery,
and money did not save me from the birch. When Nina was ill and
died, my money did not help her. If people don't care for me, I
can't make them like me if I spend a hundred million."

"But you can do a great deal of good," said Kish.

"Good, indeed! You spoke to me yesterday of a mathematical man who
is looking for a job. Believe me, I can do as little for him as you
can. I can give money, but that's not what he wants--I asked a
well-known musician to help a poor violinist, and this is what he
answered: 'You apply to me just because you are not a musician
yourself.' In the same way I say to you that you apply for help to
me so confidently because you've never been in the position of a
rich man."

"Why you bring in the comparison with a well-known musician I don't
understand!" said Yulia Sergeyevna, and she flushed crimson. "What
has the well-known musician to do with it!"

Her face was quivering with hatred, and she dropped her eyes to
conceal the feeling. And not only her husband, but all the men
sitting at the table, knew what the look in her face meant