They remained silent. There was no sound but the rattling of the dog's
chain.

"It's not the place that's lonely," exclaimed Soloveitchik with sudden
vehemence. "But it's here I feel it, and here," He touched his forehead
and his breast.

"What's the matter with you?" asked Sanine calmly.

"Look here," continued Soloveitchik, becoming more excited, "you struck
a man to-day, and smashed his face in. Perhaps you have ruined his
whole life. Pray don't be offended at my speaking to you like this. I
have thought a great deal about it all, sitting here, as you see, and
wondering, wondering. Now, if I ask you something, will you answer me?"

For a moment his features were contorted by his usual set smile.

"Ask me whatever you like," replied Sanine, kindly. "You're afraid of
offending me, eh? That won't offend me, I assure you. What's done is
done; and, if I thought that I had done wrong, I should be the first to
say so."

"I wanted to ask you this," said Soloveitchik, quivering with
excitement. "Do you realize that perhaps you might have killed that
man?"

"There's not much doubt about that," replied Sanine. "It would have
been difficult for a man like Sarudine to get out of the mess unless he
killed me, or I killed him. But, as regards killing me, he missed the
psychological moment, so to speak; and at present he's not in a fit
condition to do me harm. Later on he won't have the pluck. He's played
his part."