'And what makes you suppose,' he roared, still purple from the fit of
coughing, 'that we want to enlist you on our side? We don't want that at
all! Freedom for the free, salvation for the saved! But as to the two
generations, that's right enough; we old folks find it hard to get on
with you young people, very hard! Our ideas don't agree in anything:
neither in art, nor in life, nor even in morals; do they, Susanna
Ivanovna?'

Susanna smiled a contemptuous smile.

'Especially in regard to morals, as you say, our ideas do not agree, and
cannot agree,' she responded, and something menacing seemed to flit over
her brows, while her lips were faintly trembling as before.

'Of course! of course!' Ratsch broke in, 'I'm not a philosopher! I'm not
capable of... rising so superior! I'm a plain man, swayed by
prejudices--oh yes!'

Susanna smiled again.

'I think, Ivan Demianitch, you too have sometimes been able to place
yourself above what are called prejudices.'

'Wie so? How so, I mean? I don't know what you mean.'

'You don't know what I mean? Your memory's so bad!'

Mr. Ratsch seemed utterly taken aback.

'I... I...' he repeated, 'I...'