ich does not really... do justice to
my character... believe me." (Sipiagin purposely hesitated over his
speech.) "But just put yourself in my place, Mr. Paklin!" (Sipiagin
rolled the cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other.) "The
position I occupy places me... so to speak... before the public eye,
and suddenly, without any warning... my wife's brother... compromises
himself... and me, in this impossible way! Well, Mr. Paklin? But perhaps
you think that it's nothing?"

"I am far from thinking that, your excellency."

"You don't happen to know exactly why... and where he was arrested?"

"I heard that he was arrested in T. district."

"Who told you so?"

"A certain person."

"Of course it could hardly have been a bird. But who was this person?"

"An assistant... of the director of the governor's office--"

"What's his name?"

"The director's?"

"No, the assistant's."

"His name is... Ulyashevitch. He is a very honest man, your excellency.
As soon as I heard of the affair, I hastened to tell you."

"Yes, yes. I am very grateful to you indeed. But what utter madness!
downright madness! Don't you think so, Mr. Paklin?"

"Utter madness!" Paklin exclaimed, while the perspiration rolled down
his back in a hot stream, "it just shows," he continued, "the folly of
not understanding the peasant. Mr. Markelov, so far as I know him, has
a very kind and generous heart, but he has no conception of what the
Russian peasant is really like." (Paklin glanced at Sipiagin who sat
slightly turned towards him, gazing at him with a cold, though not
unfriendly, light in his eyes.) "The Russian peasant can never be
induced to revolt except by taking advantage of that devotion of his
to some high authority, some tsar. Some sort of legend must be
invented--you remember Dmitrius the pretender--some sort of royal sign
must be shown him, branded on the breast."

"Just like Pugatchev," Sipiagin interrupted him in a tone of voice which
seemed to imply that he had not yet forgotten his history and that
it was really not necessary for Paklin to go on. "What madness! what
madness!" he added, and became wrapped in the contemplation of the rings
of smoke as they rose quickly one after another from the end of his
cigar.

"Your excellency," Paklin began apologetically, "I have just said that I
didn't smoke... but it was not true. I do smoke and your cigar smells so
nice--"

"Eh? What?" Sipiagin asked as if waking up; and without gi