“They are always disputing,” Mary Pávlovna said, when there was a moment’s silence.
“And you yourself, what do you think about it?” Nekhlúdoff asked her.
“I think Kryltzóff is right when he says we should not force our views on the people.”
“And you, Katúsha?” asked Nekhlúdoff with a smile, waiting anxiously for her answer, fearing she would say something awkward.
“I think the common people are wronged,” she said, and blushed scarlet. “I think they are dreadfully wronged.”
“That’s right, Máslova, quite right,” cried Nabátoff. “They are terribly wronged, the people, and they must not be wronged, and therein lies the whole of our task.”
“A curious idea of the object of revolution,” Novódvoroff remarked crossly, and began to smoke.
“I cannot talk to him,” said Kryltzóff in a whisper, and was silent.
“And it is much better not to talk,” Nekhlúdoff said.
XV
Although Novódvoroff was highly esteemed of all the revolutionists, though he was very learned, and considered very wise, Nekhlúdoff reckoned him among those of the revolutionists who, being below the average moral level, were very far below it. His inner life was of a nature directly opposite to that of Símonson’s. Símonson was one of those people (of an essentially masculine type) whose actions follow the dictates of their reason, and are determined by it. Novódvoroff belonged, on the contrary, to the class of people of a feminine type, whose reason is directed partly towards the attainment of aims set by their feelings, partly to the justification of acts suggested by their feelings. The whole of Novódvoroff’s revolutionary activity, though he could explain it very eloquently and very convincingly, appeared to Nekhlúdoff to be founded on nothing but ambition and the desire for supremacy. At first his capacity for assimilating the thoughts of others, and of expressing them correctly, had given him a position of supremacy among pupils and teachers in the gymnasium and the university, where qualities such as his are highly prized, and he was satisfied. When he had finished his studies and received his diploma he suddenly altered his views, and from a modern liberal he turned into a rabid Naródavoletz, in order (so Kryltzóff, who did not like him, said) to gain supremacy in another sphere.
As he was devoid of those moral and aesthetic qualities which call forth doubts and hesitation, he very soon acquired a position in the revolutionary world which satisfied him—that of the leader of a party. Having once chosen a direction, he never doubted or hesitated, and was therefore certain that he never made a mistake. Everything seemed quite simple, clear and certain. And the narrowness and one-sidedness of his views did make everything seem simple and clear. One only had to be logical, as he said. His self-assurance was so great that it either repelled people or made them submit to him. As he carried on his work among very young people, his boundless self-assurance led them to believe him very profound and wise; the majority did submit to him, and he had a great success in revolutionary circles. His activity was directed to the preparation of a rising in which he was to usurp the power and call together a council. A programme, composed by him, should be proposed before the council, and he felt sure that this programme of his solved every problem, and that it would be impossible not to carry it out.
His comrades respected but did not love him. He did not love anyone, looked upon all men of note as upon rivals, and would have willingly treated them as old male monkeys treat young ones if he could have done it. He would have torn all mental power, every capacity, from other men, so that they should not interfere with the display of his talents. He behaved well only to those who bowed before him. Now, on the journey he behaved well to Kondrátieff, who was influenced by his propaganda; to Véra Doúkhova and pretty little Grábetz, who were both in love with him. Although in principle he was in favour of the woman’s movement, yet in the depth of his soul he considered all women stupid and insignificant except those whom he was sentimentally in love with (as he was now in love with Grábetz), and such women he considered to be exceptions, whose merits he alone was capable of discerning.
The question of the relations of the sexes he also looked upon as thoroughly solved by accepting free union. He had one nominal and one real wife, from both of whom he was separated, having come to the conclusion that there was no real love between them, and now he thought of entering on a free union with Grábetz. He despised Nekhlúdoff for “playing the fool,” as Novódvoroff termed it, with Máslova, but especially for the freedom Nekhlúdoff took of considering the defects of the existing system and the methods of correcting those defects in a manner which was not only not exactly the same as Novódvoroff’s, but was Nekhlúdoff’s own—a prince’s, that is, a fool’s manner. Nekhlúdoff felt this relation of Novódvoroff’s towards him, and knew to his sorrow that in spite of the state of goodwill in which he found himself on this journey he could not help paying this man in his own coin, and could not stifle the strong antipathy he felt for him.
XVI
The voices of officials sounded from the next room. All the prisoners were silent, and a sergeant, followed by two convoy soldiers, entered. The time of the inspection had come. The sergeant counted everyone, and when Nekhlúdoff’s turn came he addressed him with kindly familiarity.
“You must not stay any longer, Prince, after the inspection; you must go now.”
Nekhlúdoff knew what this meant, went up to the sergeant and shoved a three-rouble note into his hand.
“Ah, well, what is one to do with you; stay a bit longer, if you like.” The
