"You're so very clever, aren't you?"
"The strength is in the hand, not in the knife."
"Talk!"
"And if my hands fall off, I'd tear her windpipe with my teeth."
"Don't talk so horribly!"
"Don't talk to me Ilya," said Pavel, once more quietly. "Believe or don't believe, but don't torment me. Fate is bad enough."
"Think, think, you silly fellow——" began Ilya, speaking in a friendly tone.
"I've thought for two years. Everything's settled long ago. Anyhow, I'll go—how can a fellow talk to you? You're well fed; you're no comrade for me."
"Get rid of your crazy thoughts!" cried Ilya reproachfully.
"But I'm hungry, body and soul."