My nearest neighbor was sleeping contentedly, letting me stretch out as I could. Opposite me one passenger was lying down and another was sitting by the window. They kept on with the conversation they had already commenced.
“Let’s imagine,” said the one who was lying down, “that I am a man who is not superstitious.... But yet” (he yawned pleasantly and slowly) “it cannot be denied that there is much, so to speak, unknown,—isn’t that so?... Let’s suppose, the peasants ... country naïvete and superstition. But take a paper....”
“Well, a paper. Superstition is for peasants, but this is for the papers. A peasant, simple fellow, sees a primitive devil with horns and breathing fire. He’s frightened.... A reporter sees a figure from the ballet....”
The gentleman who admitted that there was “much unknown” yawned again.
“Yes,” he said with a somewhat scientific air, “that is true; fears disappear with the development of culture and education....”
His companion did not reply, but later said thoughtfully:
“Disappear?... Do you remember in Tolstoy: Anna Karenina and Vronsky have the identical dream: a peasant, an ordinary laborer ‘works in steel’ and speaks French.... Both wake up in terror.... What’s so terrible there? Of course, it’s a little strange for a peasant to speak French. But, granted.... Nevertheless, in a given combination of circumstances, a picture which is not frightful will terrify you.... Take the Brothers Karamazov of Dostoyevsky.... We’ve got there an urban devil.... You remember, of course....”
“No, I don’t.... You know, Pavel Semenovich, I’m an instructor of mathematics....”
“Oh, excuse me.... I thought.... Yes, I remember: he was a certain man, or, better yet, a certain type of Russian gentleman, quite well along in years, with his hair and pointed beard rather gray.... His linen and necktie, you know, were like those of any other stylish gentleman, but his linen was rather dirty and his necktie frayed. To sum up, ‘He looked like a man of taste with slender financial resources....’”