like that." "But sniff it as you ought," says I, "my hands are clean." "I don't like it," says he, "and that 's all." "But I like it very much, my angel," says I, "though not for myself. Do you understand that allegory, my treasure?" "Yes," says he. "Then mind and be a good boy for the future, and now here 's a rouble sterling for you; go away and be grateful to me night and day," and so the scribbling chap went off.'
The general burst out laughing and again every one followed his example—every one except Irina, who did not even smile and looked darkly at the speaker.
The condescending general slapped Boris on the shoulder.
'That 's all your invention, О friend of my bosom. . . . You threatening any one with a stick. . . . You haven't got a stick. С'est pour faire rire ces dames. For the sake of a good story. But that 's not the point. I said just now that we must turn back completely. Understand me. I am not hostile to so-called progress, but all these universities and seminaries, and popular schools, these students, priests' sons, and commoners, all these small fry, tout ce fond du sac, la petite propriété, pire que le prolétariat (the general uttered this in a languishing, almost faint voice) voilà ce qui m'effraie . . . that's where one ought to draw