RUDIN
once to say “Dmitri and Mihail” to one another. Let us revive the old habit, . . . will you? Let us drink to those days!’
Rudin started and drew himself up a little, and there was a gleam in his eyes of something no word can express.
‘Let us drink to them,’ he said. ‘I thank you, brother, we will drink to them!’
Lezhnyov and Rudin drained their glasses.
‘You know, Mihail,’ Rudin began again with a smile and a stress on the name, ‘there is a worm in me which gnaws and worries me and never lets me be at peace till the end. It brings me into collision with people,—at first they fall under my influence, but afterwards . . .’
Rudin waved his hand in the air.
‘Since I parted from you, Mihail, I have seen much, have experienced many changes. . . . I have begun life, have started on something new twenty times—and here—you see!’
‘You had no stability,’ said Lezhnyov, as though to himself.
‘As you say, I had no stability. I never was able to construct anything; and it’s a difficult thing, brother, to construct when one has to
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