“Oh, I don’t care! I am no longer afraid of anything.⁠ ⁠… Prison is better for me than this! I am not afraid of prison.⁠ ⁠… I even long for it sometimes,” he said sadly.

“What a pity it is that so much strength is wasted uselessly!” said I. “How people like you destroy your own lives!⁠ ⁠… Well, and what do you mean to do now?”

“I?” he said, looking intently into my face.

At first, while we talked about past events and general topics, he had answered me boldly and cheerfully; but as soon as our conversation referred to himself personally and he noticed my sympathy, he turned away, hid his eyes with his sleeve, and I noticed that the back of his head was shaking.

And how many such people there are!

They are pitiable and pathetic, and they, too, stand on the threshold beyond which a state of despair begins that makes even a kindly man ready to go all lengths.