Nicolai Yegorovitch laughed loudly, and made her say:
“Ikey’s hanged himself,” over and over again.
Yourii shut himself up in his room, and, while correcting his pupil’s exercises, he thought:
“How much of the brute there is in every man! For such dull-witted beasts is it worth while to suffer and to die?”
Then, ashamed of his intolerance, he said to himself.
“They are not to blame. They don’t know what they are doing. Well, whether they know or not, they’re brutes, and nothing else!”
His thoughts reverted to Soloveitchik.
“How lonely is each of us in this world! There was poor Soloveitchik, great of heart, living in our midst ready to make any sacrifice, and to suffer for others. Yet nobody, any more than I did, noticed him or appreciated him. In fact, we despised him. That was because he could not express himself, and his anxiety to please only had an irritating effect, though, in reality he was striving to get into closer touch with all of us, and to be helpful and kind. He was a saint, and we looked upon him as a fool!”
So keen was his sense of remorse that he left his work, and restlessly paced the room. At last he sat down at the table, and, opening the Bible, read as follows:
“As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away, so he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more.