“If you really want to know my views, my dear brother-in-law, here they are. I admit that the peasants had a right to arrest me and give me up if they disapproved of what I preached to them. They were free to do what they wanted. I came to them, not they to me. As for the government—if it does send me to Siberia, I’ll go without grumbling, although I don’t consider myself guilty. The government does its work, defends itself. Are you satisfied?”
Sipiagin wrung his hands in despair.
“Satisfied!! What a word! That’s not the point, and it is not for us to judge the doings of the government. The question, my dear Sergai, is whether you feel” (Sipiagin had decided to touch the tender strings) “the utter unreasonableness, senselessness, of your undertaking and are prepared to repent; and whether I can answer for you at all, my dear Sergai.”
Markelov frowned.
“I have said all I have to say and don’t want to repeat it.”
“But don’t you repent? Don’t you repent?”
“Oh, leave me alone with your repentance! You want to steal into my very soul? Leave that, at any rate, to me.”
Sipiagin shrugged his shoulders.
“You were always like that; never would listen to common-sense. You have a splendid chance of getting out of this quietly, honourably——”
“Quietly, honourably,” Markelov repeated savagely. “We know those words. They are always flung at a man when he’s wanted to do something mean! That is what these fine phrases are for!”