The Brothers Karamazov
The boys went on.
‘That was a nice peasant,’ Kolya observed to Smurov. ‘I
like talking to the peasants, and am always glad to do them
justice.’
‘Why did you tell a lie, pretending we are thrashed?’
asked Smurov.
‘I had to say that to please him.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘You know, Smurov, I don’t like being asked the same
thing twice. I like people to understand at the first word.
Some things can’t be explained. According to a peasant’s
notions, schoolboys are whipped, and must be whipped.
What would a schoolboy be if he were not whipped? And if
I were to tell him we are not, he’d be disappointed. But you
don’t understand that. One has to know how to talk to the
peasants.’
‘Only don’t tease them, please, or you’ll get into another
scrape as you did about that goose.’
‘So you’re afraid?’
‘Don’t laugh, Kolya. Of course I’m afraid. My father
would be awfully cross. I am strictly forbidden to go out
with you.’
‘Don’t be uneasy, nothing will happen this time. Hal-
lo, Natasha!’ he shouted to a market woman in one of the
booths.
‘Call me Natasha! What next! My name is Marya,’ the
middle-aged marketwoman shouted at him.
‘I am so glad it’s Marya. Good-bye!’
‘Ah, you young rascal! A brat like you to carry on so!’