Prev | Current Page 377 | Next

Artzybashev, Mikhail Petrovich, 1878-1927

"Sanine"

They are lunatics, idiots! Let
them loose, and they would cut their own throats and those of other
folk as well. Am I to blame because I protected myself from a madman of
this type?"
"Yes, but you have killed him," was Soloveitchik's obstinate reply.
"In that case you had better appeal to the good God who made us meet."
"You could have stopped him by seizing hold of his hands."
Sanine raised his head.
"In a moment like that one doesn't reflect. And how would that have
helped matters? His code of honour demanded revenge at any price. I
could not have held his hands for ever. It would only have been an
additional insult, nothing more."
Soloveitchik limply waved his hand, and did not reply. Imperceptibly
the darkness closed round them. The fires of sunset paled, and beneath
the deserted sheds the shadows grew deeper, as if in these lonely
places mysterious, dreadful beings were about to take up their abode
during the night. Their noiseless footsteps may have made Sultan
uneasy, for he suddenly crept out of his kennel and sat in front of it,
rattling his chain.


Pages:
365 366 367 368 369 370 371 372 373 374 375 376 377 378 379 380 381 382 383 384 385 386 387 388 389