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Perhaps it may be then..." "But now? Now?" asks Lichonin with growing agitation. "Shall I look on, with my little hands folded? 'It's none of my affair? Tolerate it as an unavoidable evil? Put up with it, and wash my hands of it? Shall I pronounce a benediction upon it?" "This evil is not unavoidable, but insuperable. But isn't it all the same to you?" asked Platonov with cold wonder.
Now, in the darkness, the figure of Roly-Poly drawn up on the floor, with his blue face, appeared before them in all the horror that the dead possess for early youth; and especially if recalled at night, in the dark. A fine rain, like dust, obstinate and tedious, had been drizzling since morning. Platonov was working in the port at the unloading of watermelons.
"Wha-at?" asked Platonov in a drawl, knitting his eyebrows. "Or else you are her lover it's all one ... What do they call this duty here? Well, now, these same people for whom the women embroider shirts and with whom they divide their honest earnings? ... Eh? ..." Platonov looked at him with a heavy, intent gaze through his narrowed lids.
The Russian expression is "the red flag." "Drop it, Niura; it's boring," said Platonov with a wry face. "Can it!" But it was impossible to stop Niura, who had gotten a running start.
"Very, very gladly," affably answered Platonov and suddenly looked at Lichonin with a radiant, almost child-like smile, which beautified his plain face with the prominent cheek-bones. "You, too, appealed to me from the first. And even when I saw you there, at Doroshenko's, I at once thought that you are not at all as rough as you seem."
The extravagant delirium of large cities, or an eternal historical phenomenon? Will it cease some time? Or will it die only with the death of all mankind? Who will answer me that?" Platonov was looking at him intently, narrowing his eyes slightly, through habit. He wanted to know what main thought was inflicting such sincere torture on Lichonin. "When it will cease, none will tell you.
Perhaps there are even people burning! but for his part merely laments and slaps his thighs." "Well, now," said Platonov harshly, "would you take a child's syringe and go to put out the fire with it?" "No!" heatedly exclaimed Lichonin ... "Perhaps who knows? perhaps I'll succeed in saving at least one living soul?
Platonov with enjoyment straightened out his back and bent it backward, and spread out his swollen arms. With pleasure he thought of having already gotten over that first pain in all the muscles, which tells so during the first days, when one is just getting back into the work after disuse.
"Previously, some five years ago, I experienced this also," continued Platonov. "But, do you know, it's really too tedious and disgusting. Something on the nature of these flies which the actor gentleman just represented. They're stuck together on the window sill, and then in some sort of fool wonder scratch their backs with their little hind legs and fly apart forever.
Platonov looked over all the persons sitting with a slow gaze, and suddenly, waving his hand despondently, said in a tired voice: "However ... The devil take it all! To-day I have spoken enough for ten years ... And all of it to no purpose." "But really, Sergei Ivanich, why shouldn't you try to describe all this yourself?" asked Yarchenko.
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