NASTYA. Yes! I did! Madly! It’s true! He saw everything—understood everything . . .
SATINE [laughing] Yes, generally speaking, I would say that he was—oh—like mush to those who can’t chew. . . .
THE BARON [laughing] Right! Like plaster on a boil!
KLESHTCH. He was merciful—you people don’t know what pity means . . .
SATINE. What good can I do you by pitying you?
KLESHTCH. You needn’t have pity—but you needn’t harm or offend your fellow-beings, either!
THE TARTAR [sits up on his bunk, nursing his wounded hand carefully] He was a fine old man. The law of life was the law of his heart . . . and he who obeys this law, is good, while he who disregards it, perishes . . .
THE BARON. What law, Prince?
THE TARTAR. There are a number—different ones—you know . . .