You all push me aside to a place apart, all by myself." "Your heart is aching, Nikolay!" said the Little Russian softly and tenderly sitting down beside him.
"Yes, it's aching, and so is your heart.

But your aches seem nobler to you than mine.

We are all scoundrels toward one another, that's what I say.

And what have you to say to that ?" He fixed his sharp gaze on Andrey, and waited with set teeth.

His mottled face remained immobile, and a quiver passed over his thick lips, as if scorched by a flame.
"I have nothing to say!" said the Little Russian, meeting Vyesovshchikov's hostile glance with a bright, warm, yet melancholy look of his blue eyes.