“It is not that you are in my way, but…it’s like this: I am bitter against everybody. Am I worse than they are? That’s what it is.…Well, then, I don’t need you now. Do you understand?”

“No,” answered Cain meekly, shaking his head.

“You don’t understand? You really are too queer. One should be sorry for you, isn’t that so? Well, I can’t be sorry for anybody now. I haven’t any pity for anyone,” and poking the Jew in the ribs, he added: “I haven’t any! Understand?”

There was a long silence. The murmur of the splashing waters floated towards the two men through the warm and scented air; it seemed like the distant sighing and moaning of the dark, sleeping river.

“What is to become of me now?” asked Cain at last; but he received no response, for Artyom had dozed off or, perhaps, had fallen into a reverie.

“How am I to live without you?” continued the Jew in a louder voice. Artyom, gazing up at the sky, made answer:

“It is for you to decide what you will do.”

“My God, my God!”

“One cannot tell other people offhand how to live,” Artyom said, lazily.

Having said everything he had to say, all at once he grew serene and quiet.

“I knew it would end like this. I knew it when I first went to help you, when you were lying nearly dead. I knew that you could not continue to be my protector for any length of time.”

He threw a supplicating look towards Artyom, but the latter was lying with his eyes closed.

“Perhaps you are doing this because they laugh at you on my account?” Cain put his question cautiously, and almost in a whisper.

“They? What do I care about them?” Artyom smiled, opening his eyes. “If I had wished to do so, I would have carried you through the streets on my shoulders. Let them laugh.…But all this leads to nothing. One must act according to one’s true feelings, according to the dictates of one’s own soul. What’s not there, just isn’t. And I, brother, I confess—it disgusts me that you are as you are! And that is the whole truth!”

“Ah! That’s true! What about me, now? Shall I go?”

“Yes, go while it is still daylight—no one will touch you for the moment. No one has overheard our conversation.”

“No! And you will say nothing about it to anyone?” asked Cain.

“Of course not! But remember not to come near me too often.”

“Very well!” The Jew agreed quietly and mournfully, and rose to his feet.

“If you take my advice, you will go away from here altogether, and carry on your trade elsewhere,” said Artyom, in a nonchalant tone of voice. “Life is very hard here, and everyone is trying to injure his neighbor in some way or other.”

“But where can I go?”

“That’s for you to find out.”