Sanine

"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?"