"Why I?" he asked. He struck his breast, and exclaimed with angry heat, "The question here is, not about the man but about the law. Ought a man uphold the law? Yes, he ought. Without law it is impossible to live. You people are stupid, because man is in every respect like a beast. He is greedy, malicious, cruel."
The old man rose a little from his armchair, and shouted his words in Rayisa's face. His bald pate reddened. Yevsey listened to his exclamations without believing in their sincerity. He reflected on how people are bound together and enmeshed by some unseen threads, and how if one thread is accidentally pulled, they twist and turn, rage and cry out. So he said to himself:
"I must be more careful."
The old man continued:
"Words bring no harm if you do not listen to them. But when the fellow in the garret began to trouble her heart with his ideas, she, a stupid young woman, and that friend of his who—who to-day—" The old man suddenly came to a stop, and looked at Yevsey. "What are you thinking about?" he asked in a low suspicious tone.
Yevsey rose and answered in embarrassment:
"I am not thinking."
"Well, then, go. You've had your supper. So go. Clear the table."
Desiring to vex his master Yevsey was intentionally slow in removing the dishes from the table.
"Go, I tell you!" the old man screamed in a squeaking voice. "Oh, what a fool you are!"