Chapter 37 Chapter 15 Basement (3)

Having said this, Nechayev stopped, moved closer to him, and stared at him intently. "Have I gone too far, Fyodor Mikhailovich?" he continued, softening his tone. "I was a little too excited and revealed the facts that shouldn't be revealed—we have already seen through you, all of us, and your stepson, right? Why don't you speak? The knife is about to cut to the bone?" Necha Jeff pulled a blue scarf from his pocket. "Shall we cover our eyes again?" Cut to the bone?Yes, maybe so.Not the indictment itself, but the voice he heard behind it: Pavel's voice.Pavel complained about himself to his friend, and his friend kept the words like poison.

Listlessly he pushed the scarf aside. "Why do you keep trying to piss me off?" he said. "You didn't bring me here to see some printing press or starving children. It's all an excuse. What do you want from me? Are you going to denounce you? Why don't you give up Petersburg? Give up here and run like a sensible person. It's better now, you think of yourself as Jesus who left Jerusalem, waiting for a donkey to come and deliver you to the hands of the persecutors Come on. You want me to play the part of the donkey? You're delusional, thinking of yourself as a prince in hiding, a prince and a martyr, waiting for someone to get you. You want to steal Easter from Jesus .This is the second time you have tempted me, and I will not be tempted by you."

"Don't change the subject secretly! We are discussing Russia, not Jesus. Don't keep thinking about scolding me. If you betray me, there is only one reason, and that is that you hate me." "I don't hate you. I have no reason to hate you." "You have a reason! You want to hit me back because I opened the eyes of the people to what you really like, what you and your generation really like." "So what are we, me and my generation, really like?" "I'm telling you, your days are numbered. You're just trying to put the world on your back as you walk off the stage without a sound. You're angry because the reins were passed on to someone younger and stronger than you. and they will make this world a better place. The old world is what you really like. Don't tell me stories about you being a revolutionary who came to Siberia for your faith. The truth I know is that Even in Siberia, you are treated like nobles. You don't understand the suffering of people at all, you just pretend to do it. You old guys make me sick! If I reach thirty-five years old, I swear I will fight against myself Take a shot in the head!"

The last few words were so angry that he couldn't help laughing.Nechayev blushed, perplexed. "I hope you will have a chance to be a father back before you kill yourself." "I'll never be a father," Nechayev murmured. "How do you know you won't do it? Maybe you will. All a man can do is sow seeds, and after sowing seeds, he has his own life." Nechayev shook his head resolutely.What does he mean?He didn't want to plant his own seed?He swore to be a virgin like Jesus? "Maybe you will," he repeated in a mild tone. "The seed becomes a son, and the prince becomes a king. One day you sit on the throne (if you haven't punched your head out by then), and your land is full of hidden in basements and attics What are you going to do, little prince? Send soldiers to chop off their heads?"

Nechayev glared. "You're trying to make me angry with this stupid analogy. I know all too well what happened to your own father - Pavel told me - a poor tyrant, hated to death by everyone, who ended up being Your own sharecroppers killed. Because you and your father hated each other, you think world history is nothing but wars between fathers and sons. You don't understand the meaning of revolution. Revolution is the end of all old things, including father and son End of relationship. Revolution or end of succession and dynasty. Revolution can renew revolution itself if it is true revolution. Every generation overturns old revolution and makes history start anew. This is new thinking, truly new The idea. The year of the epoch. Blanqui's blueprint. Everything starts from scratch, everything starts over: law, morality, family, everything. Prisoners are all set free, and all crimes are pardoned. What a grand idea, You, you and your generation can't understand it. Either you understand it too well and would rather it be suffocated in the cradle."

"What about money? When you pardon crimes, do you redistribute wealth?" "We will go further. When the people have a little will, we will often issue new coins and cancel the existing ones. This is the mistake of the French - they let the old coins circulate in the market. The French The revolution was not complete because they didn't have the courage to overthrow everything. They overthrew the aristocracy, but they didn't kill the old way of thinking. In our schools, we teach people how to think and find out why they are still oppressed. Everyone will be re-entering schools, even professors. Farmers will be teachers and professors will be students. In our schools we will create new men and women. Everyone will be able to carry a new spiritual regeneration."

"What about God? What would God think?" The young man laughed heartily at him. "God? God will envy us." "Do you believe in God?" "Of course I do! If you don't believe in God, what do you believe in?—There's always someone with a torch to light up the world and destroy it. No, we'll go to God and stand before his throne and let him come down. He'll come! He There's no choice, he has to listen. In the end, we'll all be in the same place together." "Where's the angel?" "The angels will surround us and sing hosannas. The angels will also come down, and they will be liberated. They will also walk on the earth like ordinary people."

"What about the souls of the dead?" "You have too many questions! The same goes for the souls of the dead, Fyodor Mikhailovich, if you will. We will let the souls of the dead walk the earth again - Pavel Isa Same with Yev, if you will. There are no boundaries to what we can do." What a big cowhide!He didn't know what else Nechayev could do—whether he was playing with Nechayev or Nechayev was playing with him.All barriers seemed to be shattered at once: tears, laughter.If Anna Sergeyevna was here—it occurred to him suddenly—he would be able to tell her all these things, and she lacked such comfort.

He took a step forward, as if his chest was filled with the strength that the giant Nechayev had given him.He hugged the boy, arms clasping his sides, crying and laughing, smelling the sour smell on his wine-scarred skin.He kissed Nechayev on the left cheek, then on the right cheek.Hip to hip, chest to chest, he was glued to his body. There was a sound of footsteps on the stairs.Nechayev struggled to free himself. "They're back!" he yelled.His eyes shone with triumph. He turned away.At the door stood a woman in black, with a white hat hanging incongruously from her head.In the dim light, in the tearful eyes, he couldn't see her age.

Nechayev looked disappointed. "Ah!" he said. "Excuse me! Come in, please." The woman didn't move, she just stood there.There was something under her arm, wrapped in a white cloth.The kids have more noses than he has.Without a word they slid out of bed together and quickly circled the two men.The girl pulled the cloth away, and immediately, the room was filled with the smell of bread.Still without a word, the girl tore off a few small pieces and handed them to her brother.They snuggled up against their mother's skirts, staring blankly, just standing and chewing.Like animals, he thought: they know where the bread comes from, but they don't care about it.