PEPEL. If I go to Siberia, it’ll be at the Tsar’s expense!
LUKA. Listen! You go just the same! You can make your own way there. They need your kind out there . . .
PEPEL. My way is clear. My father spent all his life in prison, and I inherited the trait. Even when I was a small child, they called me thief—thief’s son.
LUKA. But Siberia is a fine country—a land of gold. Any one who has health and strength and brains can live there like a cucumber in a hot-house.
PEPEL. Old man, why do you always tell lies?
LUKA. What?
PEPEL. Are you deaf? I ask—why do you always lie?
LUKA. What do I lie about?
PEPEL. About everything. According to you, life’s wonderful everywhere—but you lie . . . why?
LUKA. Try to believe me. Go and see for yourself. And some day you’ll thank me for it. What are you hanging round here for? And, besides, why is truth so important to you? Just think! Truth may spell death to you!