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"I ask leave to address the meeting," Shigalov pronounced sullenly but resolutely. "You have leave." Virginsky gave his sanction. The orator sat down, was silent for half a minute, and pronounced in a solemn voice, "Gentlemen!"
What's more, I don't see any happiness in the fact that his wife has come back after three years' absence to bear him a child of Stavrogin's." "But no one has seen Shatov's letter," Shigalov brought out all at once, emphatically. "I've seen it," cried Pyotr Stepanovitch. "It exists, and all this is awfully stupid, gentlemen."
We must have something more everyday. Not Shigalovism, for Shigalovism is a rare specimen of the jeweller's art. It's an ideal; it's in the future. Shigalov is an artist and a fool like every philanthropist. We need coarse work, and Shigalov despises coarse work. Listen. The Pope shall be for the west, and you shall be for us, you shall be for us!"
You are the leader, you are the sun and I am your worm." He suddenly kissed his hand. A shiver ran down Stavrogin's spine, and he pulled away his hand in dismay. They stood still. "Madman!" whispered Stavrogin. "Perhaps I am raving; perhaps I am raving," Pyotr Stepanovitch assented, speaking rapidly. "But I've thought of the first step! Shigalov would never have thought of it.
"Don't be uneasy, I'll avoid them and they won't notice me at all," Shigalov declared in an impressive whisper; and thereupon deliberately and without haste he walked home through the dark park. Everything, to the smallest detail of this terrible affair, is now fully known. To begin with, Liputin met Erkel and Shatov at the entrance to the grotto.
The shot seems not to have been loud; nothing was heard at Skvoreshniki, anyway. Shigalov, who was scarcely three paces away, of course heard it he heard the shout and the shot, but, as he testified afterwards, he did not turn nor even stop. Death was almost instantaneous. Pyotr Stepanovitch was the only one who preserved all his faculties, but I don't think he was quite cool.
Pyotr Stepanovitch was furious and said more than he meant to. With a resolute air Shigalov took three steps towards him. "Since yesterday evening I've thought over the question," he began, speaking with his usual pedantry and assurance.
Don't disturb yourselves, gentlemen; I know every step you take. You smile sarcastically, Mr. Liputin? But I know, for instance, that you pinched your wife black and blue at midnight, three days ago, in your bedroom as you were going to bed." Liputin's mouth fell open and he turned pale. "May I state a fact?" said Shigalov, getting up. "State it." Shigalov sat down and pulled himself together.
"Gentlemen, asking your attention and, as you will see later, soliciting your aid in a matter of the first importance," Shigalov began again, "I must make some prefatory remarks." "Arina Prohorovna, haven't you some scissors?" Pyotr Stepanovitch asked suddenly. "What do you want scissors for?" she asked, with wide-open eyes.
Mr. Shigalov is too much devoted to his task and is also too modest. I know his book. He suggests as a final solution of the question the division of mankind into two unequal parts. One-tenth enjoys absolute liberty and unbounded power over the other nine-tenths.
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