mean the people, where it is no less dark and dense than in the
other."

"Then what would you have us do?"

"The Hindus cast themselves under the wheels of the Juggernaut,"
Paklin continued; "they were mangled to pieces and died in
ecstasy. We, also, have our Juggernaut--it crushes and mangles
us, but there is no ecstasy in it."

"Then what would you have us do?" Nejdanov almost screamed at
him. "Would you have us write preachy novels?

Paklin folded his arms and put his head on one side.

"You, at any rate, could write novels. You have a decidedly
literary turn of mind. All right, I won't say anything about it.
I know you don't like it being mentioned. I know it is not very
exciting to write the sort of stuff wanted, and in the modern
style too. "'Oh, I love you," she bounded--'"

"It's all the same to me," he replied, scratching himself.

"That is precisely why I advise you to get to know all sorts and
conditions, beginning from the very highest. We must not be
entirely dependent on people like Ostrodumov! They are very
honest, worthy folk, but so hopelessly stupid! You need only look
at our friend. The very soles of his boots are not like those
worn by intelligent people. Why did he hurry away just now? Only
because he did not want to be in the same room with an