ALEXIS. Yes, yes, we’ll chat until you gather courage to do what you came for.
BORIS. It takes no courage to kill a thing like you.
ALEXIS. It takes a certain kind of courage to kill—rats.
BORIS. I have been chosen, excellency.
ALEXIS. So, so! The lot fell on you, did it? The honor! The distinction! You look at it in that way, don’t you? Like the rest of your kind, you have political ideas, eh?
BORIS. I have no political ideas.
ALEXIS. No political ideas? Well, well! No personal hatred? Pray explain yourself, man.
BORIS. I am a peasant. My father and my father’s father were peasants. You are a noble. Your line runs back to Tartar princes. It is a matter of centuries of pain and slavery against centuries of oppression and violence. I take no account of to-day, only of yesterday and tomorrow. Your acts have been cruel and harsh, doubtless. I hardly know. I throw them out of the scale. I throw out my own sufferings. They are not enough in themselves to tip the balance. You and I are nothing. It is caste against caste. I gave myself to the revolutionary party, yes! I am their agent as you say, but I know little of their ideas for Russia. I care less. I only know that the band to which I belong represents the struggle which I feel in my own breast. I am their willing tool. I do their will because the right of vengeance comes down to me in the blood.
ALEXIS. Yes, yes! A fanatic!
BORIS. It is my order against yours.