That afternoon Paul was going out riding. He could not find his spurs.
"Take mine," said Stanislaus, pleasantly, as if nothing had happened.
And Paul took them, a little ashamed, saying to himself:

"He's a decent little beggar, after all - if only he weren't so
insufferably pious!"

But Paul, though he might be touched for the moment by his brother's
readiness to forgive, continued to grow even more irritated with
him. Many and many a time he struck Stanislaus; and often, after
knocking him down, kicked him and then tramped on him. And Bilinski
always took the same line, trying to make peace by blaming
everything on Stanislaus.

Now Stanislaus was very nearly Paul's equal in size, and easily his
match in strength. He lived simply and frugally, kept himself in
condition, did not over-eat and over-drink as Paul did. He could,
without much difficulty, have met Paul's brutality in kind, and very
likely have given him a good beating. And he knew well enough that
if he did so, Paul would let him alone. For when was there ever a
bully who was not also a coward?

And you may be sure he felt like doing it. He was in the right, and
knew he was. He was high-spirited and utterly without fear. And yet
he never even defended himself. lie let Paul bully him and beat him.
He endured to have himself looked upon as a coward - although you
may observe that all the time he did not budge an inch from the line
of conduct he had chosen. And why? Well, for a lot of reasons.

In the first place, he kept saying to himself, "What difference