"Eh--why not?"
"I never drink much."
The vodka and the heat had made his head ache. He longed to get out
into the fresh air.
"I must be going," he said, getting up.
"Where? Come on, have another drink!"
"No really, I ought to--" stammered Yourii, looking for his cap.
"Well, good-bye!"
As Yourii shut the door he heard Sanine saying to Ilitsch, "Of course
you're not like children; they can't distinguish good from bad; they
are simple and natural; and that is why they--" Then the door was
closed, and all was still.
High in the heavens shone the moon, and the cool night-air touched
Yourii's brow. All seemed beautiful and romantic, and as he walked
through the quiet moonlit streets the thought to him was dreadful that
in some dark, silent chamber Semenoff lay on a table, yellow and stiff.
Yet, somehow, Yourii could not recall those grievous thoughts that had
recently oppressed him, and had shrouded the whole world in gloom. His
mood was now of one tranquil sadness, and he felt impelled to gaze at
the moon. As he crossed a white deserted square he suddenly thought of
Sanine.
"What sort of man is that?" he asked himself.
Annoyed to think that there was a man whom he, Yourii, could not
instantly define, he felt a certain malicious pleasure in disparaging
him.
"A phrase-maker, that's all he is! Formerly the fellow posed as a
pessimist, disgusted with life and bent upon airing impossible views of
his own; now, he's trifling with animalism."
From Sanine Yourii's thoughts reverted to himself. He came to the
conclusion that he trifled with nothing but that his thoughts, his
sufferings, his whole personality, were original, and quite different
from those of other men.
This was most agreeable; yet something seemed to be missing. Once more
he thought of Semenoff. It was grievous to know that he should never
set eyes upon him again, and though he had never felt any affection for
Semenoff, he now had become near and dear to him. Tears rose to his
eyes. He pictured the dead student lying in the grave, a mass of
corruption, and he remembered these words of his: "You'll be living, and breathing this air, and enjoying this moonlight,
and you'll go past my grave where I lie."
"Here, under my feet, like human beings, too," thought Yourii, looking
down at the dust. "I am trampling on brains, and hearts, and human
eyes! Oh!... And I shall die, too, and others will walk over me,
thinking just as I think now. Ah! before it is too late, one must live,
one must live! Yes; but live in the right way, so that not a moment of
one's life be lost. Yet how is one to do that?"