Nehlúdof translated the question.
The old man laughed strangely, showing his regular teeth.
“The laws?” he repeated with contempt. “First Antichrist robbed everybody, took all the earth, and all rights away from them—took them all for himself—killed all those who were against him—and then He wrote laws forbidding to rob and to kill. He should have written those laws sooner.”
Nehlúdof translated. The Englishman smiled.
“Well, anyhow, ask him how one should treat thieves and murderers now?”
Nehlúdof again translated the question.
“Tell him he should take the seal of Antichrist off from himself,” the old man said, frowning severely; “then he will know neither thieves nor murderers. Tell him so.”
“He is crazy,” said the Englishman, when Nehlúdof had translated the old man’s words; and shrugging his shoulders he left the cell.
“Do thine own task and leave others alone. Every one for himself. God knows whom to execute, whom to pardon, but we do not know,” said the old man. “Be your own chief, then chiefs will not be wanted. Go, go,” he added, frowning angrily, and looking with glittering eyes at Nehlúdof, who lingered in the ward. “Hast thou not gazed enough on how the servants of Antichrist feed lice on men? Go! Go!”