KLESHTCH. Them? Call them people? Muck and dregs—that’s what they are! I’m a workman—I’m ashamed even to look at them. I’ve slaved since I was a child. . . . D’you think I shan’t be able to tear myself away from here? I’ll crawl out of here, even if I have to leave my skin behind—but crawl out I will! Just wait . . . my wife’ll die . . . I’ve lived here six months, and it seems like six years.
PEPEL. Nobody here’s any worse off than you . . . say what you like . . .
KLESHTCH. No worse is right. They’ve neither honor nor conscience.
PEPEL [indifferently] What good does it do—honor or conscience? Can you get them on their feet instead of on their uppers—through honor and conscience? Honor and conscience are needed only by those who have power and energy . . .
BUBNOFF [coming back] Oh—I’m frozen . . .
PEPEL. Bubnoff! Got a conscience?
BUBNOFF. What? A conscience?
PEPEL. Exactly!
BUBNOFF. What do I need a conscience for? I’m not rich.
PEPEL. Just what I said: honor and conscience are for the rich—right! And Kleshtch is upbraiding us because we haven’t any!