“Ah, I know where you read that, and I am sure some one told you so!” cried Alyosha.
“I say, what makes you think I read it? And certainly no one told me so. I can think for myself.... I am not opposed to Christ, if you like. He was a most humane person, and if He were alive to‐day, He would be found in the ranks of the revolutionists, and would perhaps play a conspicuous part.... There’s no doubt about that.”
“Oh, where, where did you get that from? What fool have you made friends with?” exclaimed Alyosha.
“Come, the truth will out! It has so chanced that I have often talked to Mr. Rakitin, of course, but ... old Byelinsky said that, too, so they say.”
“Byelinsky? I don’t remember. He hasn’t written that anywhere.”
“If he didn’t write it, they say he said it. I heard that from a ... but never mind.”
“And have you read Byelinsky?”
“Well, no ... I haven’t read all of him, but ... I read the passage about Tatyana, why she didn’t go off with Onyegin.”
“Didn’t go off with Onyegin? Surely you don’t ... understand that already?”
“Why, you seem to take me for little Smurov,” said Kolya, with a grin of irritation. “But please don’t suppose I am such a revolutionist. I often disagree with Mr. Rakitin. Though I mention Tatyana, I am not at all for the emancipation of women. I acknowledge that women are a subject race and must obey. Les femmes tricottent, as Napoleon said.” Kolya, for some reason, smiled, “And on that question at least I am quite of one mind with that pseudo‐great man. I think, too, that to leave one’s own country and fly to America is mean, worse than mean—silly. Why go to America when one may be of great service to humanity here? Now especially. There’s a perfect mass of fruitful activity open to us. That’s what I answered.”