Demons

'Ninny!' said the major.

'And you are a nincompoop.'

'Go on, abuse me!'

'I beg your pardon, Kapiton Maximovich, but didn't you tell me that you yourself don't believe in God?' Liputin peeped from the other end of the table.

'What if I did, it's a different matter with me! Maybe I do believe, but not quite. Though I don't fully believe, still I'm not going to say that God should be shot. Back when I was serving with the hussars, I kept reflecting about God. It's an accepted fact in all poems that a hussar drinks and carouses; so, sir, maybe I did drink, but, would you believe, I used to jump out of bed in the middle of the night, just in my socks, and start crossing myself in front of the icon, asking God to send me faith, because even then I couldn't be at peace: is there God, or not? I really had a hot time of it! In the morning I'd get distracted, of course, and faith would seem to disappear again, and generally I've noticed that faith always disappears somewhat during the day.'

'You wouldn't happen to have a deck of cards?' Verkhovensky, with a gaping yawn, addressed the hostess.

'I am altogether, altogether in sympathy with your question!' the girl student ripped out, aglow with indignation at the major's words.

'Precious time is being wasted listening to stupid talk,' the hostess cut off, looking demandingly at her husband.

The girl student drew herself up.

'I wanted to declare to the meeting about the suffering and protest of the students, but since time is being wasted on immoral talk...'

'There's no such thing as moral or immoral!' the high-school boy could not bear it, once the girl student started.

'I knew that, mister high-school student, way before you were taught such things.'

'And I maintain,' the boy flew into a frenzy, 'that you are a child come from Petersburg to enlighten us all, when we know it ourselves. About the commandment: 'Honor thy father and mother,' which you didn't know how to recite, and its being immoral—since Belinsky everyone in Russia has known that.'

'Will this never end?' Madame Virginsky said determinedly to her husband. As hostess, she blushed at the worthlessness of the talk, especially when she noticed a few smiles and even some perplexity among the first-time visitors.

'Gentlemen,' Virginsky suddenly raised his voice, 'if anyone wished to begin on something more pertinent, or has something to state, I suggest he set about it without wasting time.'

'I venture to make a question,' the lame teacher, who had hitherto been silent and was sitting especially decorously, gently said. 'I should like to know whether we here and now constitute some sort of meeting, or are a gathering of ordinary mortals who have come as guests? I ask more for the sake of order, and so as not to be in ignorance.'

This 'cunning' question produced its effect; everyone exchanged glances, each apparently expecting another to answer, and suddenly, as if on command, they all turned their eyes to Verkhovensky and Stavrogin.

'I simply suggest we vote on how to answer the question: 'Are we a meeting, or not?’“ said Madame Virginsky.

'I join fully in the suggestion,' echoed Liputin, 'though it is somewhat vague.'

'I join, too.' 'So do I,' came other voices.

'And it seems to me there would indeed be more order,' Virginsky clinched.

'So, then, let's vote!' the hostess announced. 'Lyamshin, I ask that you sit down at the piano: you can give your vote from there, when the voting starts.'

'Again!' cried Lyamshin. 'I've banged enough for you.'

'I urgently ask you, sit down and play; don't you want to be of use to the cause?'

'But I assure you, Arina Prokhorovna, no one is eavesdropping. It's just your fantasy. And the windows are high, and, besides, who'd understand anything even if he was eavesdropping?'

'We don't understand what it's about ourselves,' someone's voice grumbled.

'And I tell you that precaution is always necessary. It's in case there are spies,' she turned to Verkhovensky with her interpretation, 'let them hear from the street that we're having a party and music.'

'Eh, the devil!' Lyamshin swore, sat down at the piano, and started banging out a waltz, striking the keys randomly and all but with his fists.

'I suggest that those who wish it to be a meeting raise their right hand,' Madame Virginsky suggested.

Some raised their hand, others did not. There were some who raised it and then took it back. Took it back and then raised it again.

'Pah, the devil! I didn't understand a thing,' one officer shouted.

'I don't either,' shouted another.

'No, I understand,' a third one shouted, 'hand up if it's yes.”

'Yes, but what does yes mean?'

'It means a meeting.'

'No, not a meeting.'