"That you are unworthy of her hand," ended Aksakoff, sharply, for here the father overleaped the diplomatist.
"Quite so, Ivan Aksakoff, and I hope soon to congratulate the Countess Petrovitch."
"You are too good, Constantine Demetrius." "In return for thus arranging your domestic affairs," continued the doctor, unmoved by the sarcasm, "will you gain my pardon from the Czar? Can you gain it?" he asked with emphasis.
"I can and will."
"My title, my money----"
"Both shall be restored. And of course," added Aksakoff, with a keen glance, "you will no longer work in what you term the sacred cause of humanity."
Demetrius waved his hand gloomily. "Dreams of youth--desires for the impossible. I am aware," he added bitterly, "that individuality in a bureaucratic administration is looked upon as a crime."
"Can you wonder at it? If one wheel refuses to fit in with another, the machine will not work. We are all parts of a mighty engine----"
"Which crushes the poor and the weak."
"What matter, since you, Constantine Demetrius, are neither poor nor weak?"