..And when she was dying in a
hospital, she recalled this with joy and with pride... [Footnote:
This story is Lit. No. 29, by Guy de Maupassant.--Trans.] But
then, those were enemies, trampling upon her fatherland and
slaughtering her brothers...But you, you, Jennechka! ..."
"But I--all, just all! Tell me, Sergei Ivanovich, only tell me on
your conscience: if you were to find in the street a child, whom
some one had dishonoured, had abused...well, let's say, had stuck
its eyes out, cut its ears off--and then you were to find out that
this man is at this minute walking past you, and that only God
alone, if only He exists, is looking at you this minute from
heaven--what would you do?"
"Don't know," answered Platonov, dully and downcast; but he paled,
and his fingers underneath the table convulsively clenched into
fists, "Perhaps I would kill him..."
"Not 'perhaps,' but certainly! I know you, I sense you. Well, and
now think: every one of us has been abused so, when we were
children! ... Children! ..." passionately moaned out Jennka and
covered her eyes for a moment with her palm.
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