“Don’t you find it lonely, to be all by yourself, like this?”
Soloveitchik was silent.
Then, shrugging his shoulders, he said: “It’s all the same to me.”
They remained silent. There was no sound but the rattling of the dog’s chain.
“It’s not the place that’s lonely,” exclaimed Soloveitchik with sudden vehemence. “But it’s here I feel it, and here,” He touched his forehead and his breast.
“What’s the matter with you?” asked Sanine calmly.
“Look here,” continued Soloveitchik, becoming more excited, “you struck a man to-day, and smashed his face in. Perhaps you have ruined his whole life. Pray don’t be offended at my speaking to you like this. I have thought a great deal about it all, sitting here, as you see, and wondering, wondering. Now, if I ask you something, will you answer me?”
For a moment his features were contorted by his usual set smile.
“Ask me whatever you like,” replied Sanine, kindly. “You’re afraid of offending me, eh? That won’t offend me, I assure you. What’s done is done; and, if I thought that I had done wrong, I should be the first to say so.”
“I wanted to ask you this,” said Soloveitchik, quivering with excitement. “Do you realize that perhaps you might have killed that man?”