"His ideals are despotic too," he said, laughing, and biting a
peach. "Ordinary mortals think of their neighbour--me, you, man
in fact--if they work for the common weal. To Von Koren men are
puppets and nonentities, too trivial to be the object of his life.
He works, will go for his expedition and break his neck there, not
for the sake of love for his neighbour, but for the sake of such
abstractions as humanity, future generations, an ideal race of men.
He exerts himself for the improvement of the human race, and we are
in his eyes only slaves, food for the cannon, beasts of burden;
some he would destroy or stow away in Siberia, others he would break
by discipline, would, like Araktcheev, force them to get up and go
to bed to the sound of the drum; would appoint eunuchs to preserve
our chastity and morality, would order them to fire at any one who
steps out of the circle of our narrow conservative morality; and
all this in the name of the improvement of the human race. . . .
And what is the human race? Illusion, mirage . . . despots have
always been illusionists. I understand him very well, brother. I
appreciate him and don't deny his importance; this world rests on
men like him, and if the world were left only to such men as us,
for all our good-nature and good intentions, we should make as great
a mess of it as the flies have of that picture. Yes."

Laevsky sat down beside Samoylenko, and said with genuine feeling:
"I'm a foolish, worthless, depraved man. The air I breathe, this
wine, love, life in fact--for all that, I have given nothing in
exchange so far but lying, idleness, and cowardice. Till now I have
deceived myself and other people; I have been miserable about it,
and my misery was cheap and common. I bow my back humbly before Von
Koren's hatred because at times I hate and despise myself."