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house on the sly; it must be on the sly. They’ll try to put it
out, but it’ll go on burning. And I shall know and say noth-
ing. Ah, what silliness! And how bored I am!’
She waved her hand with a look of repulsion.
‘It’s your luxurious life,’ said Alyosha, softly.’
‘Is it better, then, to be poor?’
‘Yes, it is better.’
‘That’s what your monk taught you. That’s not true. Let
me be rich and all the rest poor, I’ll eat sweets and drink
cream and not give any to anyone else. Ach, don’t speak,
don’t say anything”; she shook her hand at him, though
Alyosha had not opened his mouth. ‘You’ve told me all that
before, I know it all by heart. It bores me. If I am ever poor, I
shall murder somebody, and even if I am rich, I may murder
someone, perhaps — why do nothing! But do you know, I
should like to reap, cut the rye? I’ll marry you, and you shall
become a peasant, a real peasant; we’ll keep a colt, shall we?
Do you know Kalganov?’
‘Yes.’
‘He is always wandering about, dreaming. He says, ‘Why
live in real life? It’s better to dream. One can dream the
most delightful things, but real life is a bore.’ But he’ll be
married soon for all that; he’s been making love to me al-
ready. Can you spin tops?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, he’s just like a top: he wants to be wound up and set
spinning and then to be lashed, lashed, lashed with a whip.
If I marry him, I’ll keep him spinning all his life. You are
not ashamed to be with me?’