Five minutes passed. He still paced up and down the room in silence, not
looking at her. At last he went up to her; his eyes glittered. He put
his two hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her tearful
face. His eyes were hard, feverish and piercing, his lips were
twitching. All at once he bent down quickly and dropping to the
ground, kissed her foot. Sonia drew back from him as from a madman. And
certainly he looked like a madman.

"What are you doing to me?" she muttered, turning pale, and a sudden
anguish clutched at her heart.

He stood up at once.

"I did not bow down to you, I bowed down to all the suffering of
humanity," he said wildly and walked away to the window. "Listen," he
added, turning to her a minute later. "I said just now to an insolent
man that he was not worth your little finger... and that I did my sister
honour making her sit beside you."

"Ach, you said that to them! And in her presence?" cried Sonia,
frightened. "Sit down with me! An honour! Why, I'm... dishonourable....
Ah, why did you say that?"

"It was not because of your dishonour and your sin I said that of you,
but because of your great suffering. But you are a great sinner, that's
true," he added almost solemnly, "and your worst sin is that you have
destroyed and betrayed yourself _for nothing_. Isn't that fearful? Isn't
it fearful that you are living in this filth which you loathe so, and at
the same time you know yourself (you've only to open your eyes) that you