“Well, good-bye!”
As Yourii shut the door he heard Sanine saying to Ilitsch, “Of course you’re not like children; they can’t distinguish good from bad; they are simple and natural; and that is why they—” Then the door was closed, and all was still.
High in the heavens shone the moon, and the cool night-air touched Yourii’s brow. All seemed beautiful and romantic, and as he walked through the quiet moonlit streets the thought to him was dreadful that in some dark, silent chamber Semenoff lay on a table, yellow and stiff. Yet, somehow, Yourii could not recall those grievous thoughts that had recently oppressed him, and had shrouded the whole world in gloom. His mood was now of one tranquil sadness, and he felt impelled to gaze at the moon. As he crossed a white deserted square he suddenly thought of Sanine.
“What sort of man is that?” he asked himself.
Annoyed to think that there was a man whom he, Yourii, could not instantly define, he felt a certain malicious pleasure in disparaging him.
“A phrase-maker, that’s all he is! Formerly the fellow posed as a pessimist, disgusted with life and bent upon airing impossible views of his own; now, he’s trifling with animalism.”
From Sanine Yourii’s thoughts reverted to himself. He came to the conclusion that he trifled with nothing but that his thoughts, his sufferings, his whole personality, were original, and quite different from those of other men.
This was most agreeable; yet something seemed to be missing. Once more he thought of Semenoff. It was grievous to know that he should never set eyes upon him again, and though he had never felt any affection for Semenoff, he now had become near and dear to him. Tears rose to his eyes. He pictured the dead student lying in the grave, a mass of corruption, and he remembered these words of his:
“You’ll be living, and breathing this air, and enjoying this moonlight, and you’ll go past my grave where I lie.”
“Here, under my feet, like human beings, too,” thought Yourii, looking down at the dust. “I am trampling on brains, and hearts, and human eyes! Oh!… And I shall die, too, and others will walk over me, thinking just as I think now. Ah! before it is too late, one must live, one must live! Yes; but live in the right way, so that not a moment of one’s life be lost. Yet how is one to do that?”