Mariana was silent.
“Take Solomin, for instance,” Nejdanov began again, “though he does not believe—”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s quite true. He does not believe ... but that is not necessary for him; he is moving steadily onwards. A man walking along a road in a town does not question the existence of the town—he just goes his way. That is Solomin. That is all that’s needed. But I ... I can’t go ahead, don’t want to turn back, and am sick of staying where I am. How dare I ask anyone to be my companion? You know the old proverb, ‘With two people to carry the pole, the burden will be easier.’ But if you let go your end—what becomes of the other?”
“Alexai,” Mariana began irresolutely, “I think you exaggerate. Do we not love each other?”
Nejdanov gave a deep sigh.
“Mariana ... I bow down before you ... you pity me, and each of us has implicit faith in the other’s honesty—that is our position. But there is no love between us.”
“Stop, Alexai! what are you saying? The police may come for us today ... we must go away together and not part—”
“And get Father Zosim to marry us at Solomin’s suggestion. I know that you merely look upon our marriage as a kind of passport—a means of avoiding any difficulties with the police ... but still it will bind us to some extent; necessitate our living together and all that. Besides it always presupposes a desire to live together.”
“What do you mean, Alexai? You don’t intend staying here?”