It goes on and sees a nest with eggs in the grass; it doesn’t want any more grub, it’s not hungry, but even so, it bites into an egg and throws the others out of the nest with its paw. Then it meets a frog and starts playing with it. It tortures the frog to death, goes on, licking its chops, and meets a beetle. Swats the beetle with its paw... And it ruins and destroys everything in its way... It crawls into other animals’ holes, digs up anthills for nothing, cracks open snail shells... It meets a rat and gets into a fight with it; it sees a snake or a mouse and has to strangle it. And this goes on all day. So tell me, what is the need for such a beast? Why was it created?’’
‘‘I don’t know what beast you’re talking about,’’ said von Koren, ‘‘probably some insectivore. Well, so what? It caught a bird because the bird was careless; it destroyed the nest of eggs because the bird wasn’t skillful, it made the nest poorly and didn’t camouflage it. The frog probably had some flaw in its coloring, otherwise it wouldn’t have seen it, and so on. Your beast destroys only the weak, the unskilled, the careless—in short, those who have flaws that nature does not find it necessary to transmit to posterity. Only the more nimble, careful, strong, and developed remain alive. Thus your little beast, without suspecting it, serves the great purposes of perfection.’’
‘‘Yes, yes, yes... By the way, brother,’’ Samoilenko said casually, ‘‘how about lending me a hundred roubles?’’
‘‘Fine. Among the insectivores, very interesting species occur. For instance, the mole. They say it’s useful because it destroys harmful insects. The story goes that a German once sent the emperor Wilhelm I a coat made of moleskins, and that the emperor supposedly reprimanded him for destroying so many of the useful animals. And yet the mole yields nothing to your little beast in cruelty, and is very harmful besides, because it does awful damage to the fields.’’
Von Koren opened a box and took out a hundred-rouble bill.
‘‘The mole has a strong chest, like the bat,’’ he went on, locking the box, ‘‘its bones and muscles are awfully well developed, its jaw is extraordinarily well equipped. If it had the dimensions of an elephant, it would be an all- destructive, invincible animal. It’s interesting that when two moles meet underground, they both begin to prepare a flat space, as if by arrangement; they need this space in order to fight more conveniently. Once they’ve made it, they start a cruel battle and struggle until the weaker one falls. Here, take the hundred roubles,’’ said von Koren, lowering his voice, ‘‘but only on condition that you’re not taking it for Laevsky.’’
‘‘And what if it is for Laevsky!’’ Samoilenko flared up. ‘‘Is that any business of yours?’’
‘‘I can’t give money for Laevsky. I know you like lending. You’d lend to the robber Kerim if he asked you, but, excuse me, in that direction I can’t help you.’’
‘‘Yes, I’m asking for Laevsky!’’ said Samoilenko, getting up and waving his right arm. ‘‘Yes! For Laevsky! And no devil or demon has the right to teach me how I should dispose of my money. You don’t want to give it to me? Eh?’’
The deacon burst out laughing.
‘‘Don’t seethe, but reason,’’ said the zoologist. ‘‘To be Mr. Laevsky’s benefactor is, in my opinion, as unintelligent as watering weeds or feeding locusts.’’
‘‘And in my opinion, it’s our duty to help our neighbors!’’ cried Samoilenko.
‘‘In that case, help this hungry Turk who’s lying by the hedge! He’s a worker and more necessary, more useful than your Laevsky. Give him this hundred roubles! Or donate me a hundred roubles for the expedition!’’
‘‘Will you lend it to me or not, I ask you?’’
‘‘Tell me frankly: what does he need the money for?’’
‘‘It’s no secret. He has to go to Petersburg on Saturday.’’
‘‘So that’s it!’’ von Koren drew out. ‘Aha... We understand. And will she be going with him, or what?’’
‘‘She remains here for the time being. He’ll settle his affairs in Petersburg and send her money, and then she’ll go.’’
‘Clever! ...’ said the zoologist and laughed a brief tenor laugh. ‘‘Clever! Smart thinking!’’
He quickly went up to Samoilenko and, planting himself face-to-face with him, looking into his eyes, asked:
‘‘Speak frankly to me: he’s fallen out of love? Right? Speak: he’s fallen out of love? Right?’’
‘‘Right,’’ Samoilenko brought out and broke into a sweat.
‘‘How loathsome!’’ said von Koren, and one could see by his face that he felt loathing. ‘‘There are two possibilities, Alexander Davidych: either you’re in conspiracy with him or, forgive me, you’re a simpleton. Don’t you understand that he’s taking you in like a little boy, in the most shameful way? It’s clear as day that he wants to get rid of her and leave her here. She’ll be left on your neck, and it’s clear as day that you’ll have to send her to Petersburg at your own expense. Has your excellent friend so bedazzled you with his merits that you don’t see even the simplest things?’’
‘‘Those are nothing but conjectures,’’ said Samoilenko, sitting down.
‘‘Conjectures? And why is he going alone and not with her? And why, ask him, shouldn’t she go on ahead and he come later? A sly beast!’’
Oppressed by sudden doubts and suspicions concerning his friend, Samoilenko suddenly weakened and lowered his tone.
‘‘But this is impossible!’’ he said, remembering the night Laevsky had spent at his place. ‘‘He suffers so!’’
‘‘What of it? Thieves and incendiaries also suffer!’’
‘‘Even supposing you’re right...’ Samoilenko said, pondering. ‘‘Let’s assume... But he’s a young man, in foreign parts ... a student, but we’ve also been students, and except for us, there’s nobody to support him.’’
‘‘To help him in his abomination only because at different points you and he were at the university and both did nothing there! What nonsense!’’
‘‘Wait, let’s reason with equanimity. It’s possible, I suppose, to arrange it like this...’ Samoilenko reasoned, twisting his fingers. ‘‘You see, I’ll give him money, but I’ll take from him his gentleman’s word of honor that he will send Nadezhda Fyodorovna money for the trip in a week.’’
