"I don't want that, go to the devil all of you! I shall not make you sorry, the only thing that can do that is the money that doesn't reach your pocket, nor am I sorry for you. I'd far sooner pity a dog. I'd rather live with dogs than with men. Ah! why don't the police come. I am tired; get out, Kirik, I can't bear the sight of you."
It really troubled him to sit opposite Avtonomov. The guests left the room, slipped out softly with anxious glances at Ilya. He saw nothing but grey flecks floating before him, that roused in him neither thought nor feeling. The emptiness in his soul grew and enfolded everything. He was silent for a space, listening to Avtonomov's cries, then suddenly proposed jestingly:
"Come Kirik, come and wrestle."
"I'll put a bullet in you," growled Kirik.
"You haven't a bullet there," answered Ilya mockingly, and added, "I'll throw you in a minute!"
After that he said nothing, but sat there without moving, without thinking. At last two policemen came with the district inspector. Lunev shuddered at the sight of them, and stood up; close behind them came Tatiana Vlassyevna, she pointed to Ilya, and said in breathless haste:
"He has confessed that he murdered Poluektov the money-changer, you remember?"
"Do you admit that?" asked the inspector harshly.
"Oh yes! I admit it," answered Ilya, quietly and wearily. "Good-bye Tanyka, don't trouble, don't be afraid, and for the rest of you, go to the devil!"
The inspector sat down at the table, and began to write; the two policemen stood right and left of Lunev; he looked at them, sighed and let his head fall. The room was still, save for the scratching of the pen; outside in the street, the night built up its black impenetrable walls. Kirik stood by the window, and looked out into the darkness; suddenly he threw the revolver into a corner of the room, and said: