MÁSHA. What rubbish! I shall stick to you. I've stuck to you already, and there's an end of it! As to your leading a bad life, drinking and going on the spree—well, you're a living soul! Give it up, and have done with it!
FÉDYA. That's easily said.
MÁSHA. Well, then, do it.
FÉDYA. Yes, when I look at you I feel as if I could really do anything.
MÁSHA. And so you shall! Yes, you'll do it! [Sees the letter] What's that? You've written to them? What have you written?
FÉDYA. What have I written?… [Takes the letter and is about to tear it up] It's no longer wanted now.
MÁSHA [snatches the letter] You've said you would kill yourself? Yes? You did not mention the revolver—only said that you'd kill yourself?
FÉDYA. Yes, that I should be no more.
MÁSHA. Give it me—give it, give it!… Have you read What to Do?
FÉDYA. I think I have.