ALEXÁNDRA IVÁNOVNA. Quand on parle du soleil on en voit les rayons.[16] We were just talking about you. Lyúba says you were rude to your father.
STYÓPA. Not at all. There was nothing particular. He gave me his opinion, and I gave him mine. It is not my fault that our views differ. Lyúba, you know, understands nothing, but must have her say about everything.
ALEXÁNDRA IVÁNOVNA. Well, and what have you decided on?
STYÓPA. I don't know what Papa has decided. I'm afraid he does not quite know himself; but as for me, I have decided to volunteer for the Horse-Guards. In our house some special objection is made to every step that is taken; but this is all quite simple. I have finished my studies, and must serve my time. To enter a line regiment and serve with tipsy low-class officers would be unpleasant, and so I'm entering the Horse-Guards, where I have friends.
ALEXÁNDRA IVÁNOVNA. Yes; but why won't your father agree to it?
STYÓPA. Papa! What is the good of talking about him? He is now possessed by his idée fixe.[17] He sees nothing but what he wants to see. He says military service is the basest kind of employment, and that therefore one should not serve, and so he won't give me any money.
LISA. No! Styópa. He did not say that! You know I was present. He says that if you cannot avoid serving, you should go when you are called; but that to volunteer, is to choose that kind of service of your own free will.
STYÓPA. But it's I, not he, who is going to serve. He himself was in the army!
LISA. Yes, but he does not exactly say that he will not give you the money; but that he cannot take part in an affair that is contrary to his convictions.
STYÓPA. Convictions have nothing to do with it. One must serve—and that's all!