Their
Utopias inspire in the mass of mediocre minds a disgust of reality and a
contempt for the secular logic of human development."
Razumov shrugged his shoulders and stared. "What a tirade!" he thought.
The silence and immobility of Councillor Mikulin impressed him. The
bearded bureaucrat sat at his post, mysteriously self-possessed like an
idol with dim, unreadable eyes. Razumov's voice changed involuntarily.
"If you were to ask me where is the necessity of my hate for such as
Haldin, I would answer you--there is nothing sentimental in it. I did
not hate him because he had committed the crime of murder. Abhorrence is
not hate. I hated him simply because I am sane. It is in that character
that he outraged me. His death..."
Razumov felt his voice growing thick in his throat. The dimness of
Councillor Mikulin's eyes seemed to spread all over his face and made it
indistinct to Razumov's sight. He tried to disregard these phenomena.
"Indeed," he pursued, pronouncing each word carefully, "what is his
death to me? If he were lying here on the floor I could walk over his
breast.... The fellow is a mere phantom...."
Razumov's voice died out very much against his will. Mikulin behind the
table did not allow himself the slightest movement. The silence lasted
for some little time before Razumov could go on again.
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