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"I'm not well; I've grown irritable," said Nikolay Levin, getting

calmer and breathing painfully; "and then you talk to me of

Sergey Ivanovitch and his article. It's such rubbish, such lying,

such self-deception. What can a man write of justice who knows

nothing of it? Have you read his article?" he asked Kritsky,

sitting down again at the table, and moving back off half of it

the scattered cigarettes, so as to clear a space.

"I've not read it," Kritsky responded gloomily, obviously not

desiring to enter into the conversation.

"Why not?" said Nikolay Levin, now turning with exasperation upon

Kritsky.

"Because I didn't see the use of wasting my time over it."

"Oh, but excuse me, how did you know it would be wasting your

time? That article's too deep for many people-that's to say it's

over their heads. But with me, it's another thing; I see through

his ideas, and I know where its weakness lies."

Everyone was mute. Kritsky got up deliberately and reached his

cap.