“Of course!” replied Sasha, calmly and confidently. “All such people are lost. He, whose character is inflexible, and who has no brains—what sort of a life is his? We are like this.”
“I have no character at all,” said Foma, stretching himself. Then after a moment’s silence he added:
“And I have no brains, either.”
They were silent for a minute, eyeing each other.
“What are we going to do?” asked Foma.
“We must have dinner.”
“No, I mean, in general? Afterward?”
“Afterward? I don’t know?”
“So you are leaving me?”
“I am. Come, let’s carouse some more before we part. Let’s go to Kazan, and there we’ll have a spree—smoke and flame! I’ll sing your farewell song.”