"You call that a new idea?" said Kirillov, after a moment"s thought.
"I... didn"t call it so, but when I thought it I felt it as a new idea."
"You "felt the idea"?" observed Kirillov. "That"s good. There are lots of ideas that are always there and yet suddenly become new. That"s true. I see a great deal now as though it were for the first time."
"Suppose you had lived in the moon," Stavrogin interrupted, not listening, but pursuing his own thought, "and suppose there you had done all these nasty and ridiculous things.... You know from here for certain that they will laugh at you and hold you in scorn for a thousand years as long as the moon lasts. But now you are here, and looking at the moon from here. You don"t care here for anything you"ve done there, and that the people there will hold you in scorn for a thousand years, do you?"
"I don"t know," answered Kirillov. "I"ve not been in the moon," he added, without any irony, simply to state the fact.
"Whose baby was that just now?"
"The old woman"s mother-in-law was here-no, daughter-in-law, it"s all the same. Three days. She"s lying ill with the baby, it cries a lot at night, it"s the stomach. The mother sleeps, but the old woman picks it up; I play ball with it. The ball"s from Hamburg. I bought it in Hamburg to throw it and catch it, it strengthens the spine. It"s a girl."
"Are you fond of children?"
"I am," answered Kirillov, though rather indifferently.
"Then you"re fond of life?"
"Yes, I"m fond of life! What of it?"
"Though you"ve made up your mind to shoot yourself."
"What of it? Why connect it? Life"s one thing and that"s another. Life exists, but death doesn"t at all."
"You"ve begun to believe in a future eternal life?"
"No, not in a future eternal life, but in eternal life here. There are moments, you reach moments, and time suddenly stands still, and it will become eternal."
"You hope to reach such a moment?"
"Yes."
"That"ll scarcely be possible in our time," Nikolay Vsyevolodovitch responded slowly and, as it were, dreamily; the two spoke without the slightest irony. "In the Apocalypse the angel swears that there will be no more time."
"I know. That"s very true; distinct and exact. When all mankind attains happiness then there will be no more time, for there"ll be no need of it, a very true thought."
"Where will they put it?"
"Nowhere. Time"s not an object but an idea. It will be extinguished in the mind."
"The old commonplaces of philosophy, the same from the beginning of time," Stavrogin muttered with a kind of disdainful compa.s.sion.
"Always the same, always the same, from the beginning of time and never any other," Kirillov said with sparkling eyes, as though there were almost a triumph in that idea.
"You seem to be very happy, Kirillov."
"Yes, very happy," he answered, as though making the most ordinary reply.
"But you were distressed so lately, angry with Liputin."
"H"m... I"m not scolding now. I didn"t know then that I was happy. Have you seen a leaf, a leaf from a tree?"
"Yes."
"I saw a yellow one lately, a little green. It was decayed at the edges. It was blown by the wind. When I was ten years old I used to shut my eyes in the winter on purpose and fancy a green leaf, bright, with veins on it, and the sun shining. I used to open my eyes and not believe them, because it was very nice, and I used to shut them again."
"What"s that? An allegory?"
"N-no... why? I"m not speaking of an allegory, but of a leaf, only a leaf. The leaf is good. Everything"s good."
"Everything?"
"Everything. Man is unhappy because he doesn"t know he"s happy. It"s only that. That"s all, that"s all! If anyone finds out he"ll become happy at once, that minute. That mother-in-law will die; but the baby will remain. It"s all good. I discovered it all of a sudden."
"And if anyone dies of hunger, and if anyone insults and outrages the little girl, is that good?"
"Yes! And if anyone blows his brains out for the baby, that"s good too. And if anyone doesn"t, that"s good too. It"s all good, all. It"s good for all those who know that it"s all good. If they knew that it was good for them, it would be good for them, but as long as they don"t know it"s good for them, it will be bad for them. That"s the whole idea, the whole of it."
"When did you find out you were so happy?"
"Last week, on Tuesday, no, Wednesday, for it was Wednesday by that time, in the night."
"By what reasoning?"
"I don"t remember; I was walking about the room; never mind. I stopped my clock. It was thirty-seven minutes past two."
"As an emblem of the fact that there will be no more time?"
Kirillov was silent.
"They"re bad because they don"t know they"re good. When they find out, they won"t outrage a little girl. They"ll find out that they"re good and they"ll all become good, every one of them."
"Here you"ve found it out, so have you become good then?"
"I am good."
"That I agree with, though," Stavrogin muttered, frowning.
"He who teaches that all are good will end the world."
"He who taught it was crucified."
"He will come, and his name will be the man-G.o.d."
"The G.o.d-man?"
"The man-G.o.d. That"s the difference."